


it is love we must hold onto

by haloburns



Series: how does a moment last forever [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (kind of), Emo, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, PTSD, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, how their lives have changed after the war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-01-22 11:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloburns/pseuds/haloburns
Summary: Five months after Voldemort was defeated, life continued on as normal. Or as normal as a war-stricken population can manage.





	1. another year at hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first legit hp fic, not just the dramione drabbles i wrote YEARS ago. i have a lot of feelings about harry and how he deals with things after the war and is this is a manifestation of all the emo thats built up inside me
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> as of 12/6/18 this fic is being edited!! only the first chapter is done so far, but as i’m procrastinating finals, i’ll be editing quickly!

Harry could barely remember the last time he’d sat in the Great Hall with only happy chatter, and he was simply worried about Quidditch and classes, not the possible end of his life and You-Know-Who’s takeover. But here he was, nearly five months after he’d killed... _ him _ . The Great Hall was loud, everyone excited to start the new year and to eat dinner with their friends.

The largest group of first years he’d seen in all his time at Hogwarts marched their way up to the Sorting Hat, waiting for their turn to gain a new family. He dimly remembered his own Sorting, but it seemed like it had happened centuries ago, not just seven years.

While Sprout called out names for the Sorting, Harry stared into space, letting his mind wander.

* * *

 

He’d turned eighteen that summer. Now, he was a legal adult in both worlds. He had moved into Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with Andromeda, Teddy, and Kreacher, who was a little more pleasant. He’d tentatively asked Andromeda to come live with him because he needed someone to help mind Teddy while he was at school, and she had accepted without hesitation.

“He’s the only family I’ve got left…” she had said quietly, watching Teddy change his hair to bright pink as she brushed his cheek. A few tears slid down her cheek as she turned to look at Harry. “And that makes you family now too, Harry.” Andi, as she insisted she be called, had pulled Harry in for a tight hug and he hesitantly returned it. He’d never gotten to know the woman before the war, just from the time he left the Dursley’s and at the funerals. 

Harry had been in the middle of demolishing a wall separating the living room from the dining room, when she came over with the last of her things. He was covered in dust and sweat, a sledgehammer in hand. The remains of the wall sat at his feet, the dust slowly settling.

“Harry, dear, what on Earth are you doing?!” Andi cried, waving her wand to clean up,  _ Scourgify _ on the tip of her tongue.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. If he’d yelled, Andi would have felt better about this. Instead, he was quiet and his voice sounded haunted. “Don’t,” he repeated. “I’m doing this the Muggle way.”

She stared at Harry for a moment before nodding, storing her wand in her sleeve without a word.

“I’ll put on some tea, dear,” she said, walking from the room. All summer, Harry had worked to renovate the house, tearing wallpaper down, smashing walls, painting them by hand. The whole thing would have taken a week, maybe two, by magic, but Harry insisted on doing it the Muggle way. Kreacher had been forbidden from cleaning up after Harry. He had pouted, but he started making food in excess, banging around the kitchen at all hours, so Harry allowed him to help clean up by hand.

The house still had a somber air, even with the majority of the black paint and stains gone from the walls and furniture. He’d tried his hardest to wear himself out every night, so he’d sleep through the nightmares.

The first time Harry had woken up screaming, Andi scrambled to get to him, afraid You-Know-Who had returned once more, that this peace hadn’t lasted. She stopped on the landing, wand drawn, confused by a familiar voice coming from outside Harry’s door.

“Thank you for coming to get me, Kreacher.”

“Kreacher is worrying about Master Harry. He is not liking sleeping and he is not eating what Kreacher makes,” came the croaking voice of the house-elf. The woman heaved a sigh and said, “Right, well I’ll just have to teach you all his favorites, then, won’t I Kreacher?”

Kreacher bowed and Disapparated to the kitchen. Andi watched Molly Weasley walk into Harry’s room, a frown on her face.  Inside, Andi could see a cold teacup and saucer sat on his bedside table. Harry was sitting in the far corner of his room, sobs racking his body. Then the door closed and Andi waited.

Tonight, he’d watched all those who died for him die again. His parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Ted, Fred, Colin… He saw all of their faces, posted in the  _ Daily Prophet  _ after the battles, engraved in his mind in Everlasting Ink.  _ They never bloody left him alone. _

“Harry, dear, let’s get you on the couch,” a quiet voice said. Warmth and love seemed to wash over him and it felt like dementors leaving the room, but he didn't move. Molly came over and gently laid her hand on his shoulder and repeated herself. As if coming out of a trance, he nodded and stood up slowly, Mrs. Weasley's arm around his back.

She sat on the couch and pulled him to her. And just like her children had done hundreds of times, Harry curled up against her and cried. Mrs. Weasley made reassuring sounds, rubbing his back, petting his hair, just like she had with her own.

Harry couldn’t tell how long they’d been sat there for, but it felt like an eternity before he finally felt okay enough to speak. He still felt heavy, and he wanted to sleep more than anything, but he felt it necessary to talk to Molly first.

“Mrs. Weasley, I told you, you don’t have to come anymore,” Harry said in an embarrassed tone. He was eighteen now, and he’d been handling nightmares for years on his own.

“Harry, dear,” Molly started in that warm, motherly tone that made his eyes water. “It’s never going to be a problem. Kreacher popped through and was wringing his hands and ears with nerves!” She nudged Harry so he’d look at her. There were deep bags under his eyes and Molly’s heart squeezed. “He’s worried about you, and frankly, so are we. Why don’t we have Sunday dinner, Harry? The whole family will be here.” She smiled sunnily at him and after a few weak protests, he agreed.

She stood from the couch with Harry, who shuffled towards his bed before sitting down heavily. Molly pulled the covers back and tucked Harry in. She heated his tea again, called a bar of chocolate from the cupboard downstairs, and kissed his head. She left him with firm instructions to finish that and try to sleep. 

Andi could see Harry was downing his tea and munching on the chocolate as Mrs. Weasley closed the door behind her. Molly let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the door. Ron had nightmares too, but not near as often as Harry. Kreacher called at least twice a week…

Andromeda shuffled out from around the corner, giving Molly a terrible fright. Her wand was out before she thought about it, though no spells were fired; no need to wake up Teddy too.

“Andromeda Black Tonks!” she reprimanded, stowing her wand, a hand against her heart. “You nearly scared the life out of me! What in Merlin’s name are you skulking about in the night for?”

“I heard Harry scream and I… Well, I thought someone was attacking,” she said. Molly nodded knowingly. Silence wrapped around them as they both relived memories of a war that never should have happened.

“How often does he have them?” Andi asked quietly after a few minutes had elapsed.

“He wakes up screaming a few times a week. Kreacher calls us through the Floo, and I pop through to comfort him.” Molly heaved another sigh, her eyes showing how tired she is. She’d lost one of her children, and the grief was weighing heavily on her. Of course, there was Bill and Fleur and the new baby on the way… But one of  _ hers  _ was gone. The addition of Harry's nightmares was obviously a strain, but Andi couldn’t tell if Mrs. Weasley was upset by it.

“Anything I can do?”

“Just be here for him,” she whispered. “He lost more than most of us during the war, and he needs people to help him be strong. He’s never had anybody to comfort him, so he won’t ask for it. How is Harry doing with Teddy?”

“He plays with him often, does most of the caring for, actually. I entertain him while Harry’s off renovating part of the house. He loves Harry, that much is obvious. Teddy looks more and more like Remus every day.” Andi closed her eyes against the fresh wave of grief at the mention of Remus and the thought of Tonks.

“We’re having dinner on Sunday, Andi. The whole brood will all be here. It’ll be nice,” Mrs. Weasley said softly, laying a gentle hand on Andi’s shoulder. She invited Molly to have a cup of tea before she left and the two spent a few hours grieving together before separating to get what little sleep they could.

The next morning, pretending nothing had happened the night before, Harry set about trying to charm the kitchen to grow to accommodate however many people are in it. Between the original Weasley, their spouses and the children they were bound to have, along with what was left of the Order dropping by to visit, it was a necessity.

The spellwork was incredibly difficult, more difficult than he thought, so Harry ended up calling Hermione to come help. Together, Harry, Hermione, and Andi spent the day making the room do as they wanted, without slipping into an alternate dimension or having chairs disappear randomly on them.

Once Hermione had perfected the spell, the room expanded when it was told how many guests were going to be there. The room and table would grow to accommodate the numbers, chairs popping in as needed.

* * *

 

“Welcome!” Minerva McGonagall stood up from the Headmistress’s chair, calling Harry out of the rabbit hole of working through the nuances of the spell again. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words.” Her voice cracked a little and a lump formed in Harry’s throat.

“And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” Instead of clapping and cheering, there was a solemn, albeit confused, quiet before McGonagall cleared her throat and said, “Thank you. Let the feast begin!” The plates were instantly filled with food and chatter returned to the tables. 

Instead of food being heaped onto plates immediately, Harry watched in amazement as people picked up their plates and moved tables. Hufflepuffs joined the Slytherins at the their table while Gryffindors squeezed in next to the Ravenclaws. There were a few Gryffindors that boldly sat at the Slytherin table, though no Slytherin’s returned the favor. It was...odd, but it was a nice sight.

“Hello Luna,” Hermione said around a large bite of food. Luna sat next to Ginny, who immediately launched into a Quidditch story. The rest of the group, consisting of Harry, Dean and Seamus, Neville, and Hermione, sat close together.

They were a few of only a handful of eighth years returning to Hogwarts to finish their education. Ron had gone on to work with George in the joke shop, and most of their class had left England altogether. Harry had thought of joining the Aurors, working in the joke shop with Ron and George, or leaving England altogether, too, but he hadn’t really been given a choice to return to Hogwarts.

He was still unsure if that was a good or a bad thing.

The last members of Dumbledore’s Army chatted around Harry while he picked at his food. Hermione had poured pumpkin juice into his goblet when she noticed he hadn’t, but he didn’t touch it.

Dinner ended with the usual beginning of term notices and reminders. McGonagall asked the prefects to gather up the younger students and show them to the dormitories, but asked that the eighth years and those who fought to stay behind for a few more words. The other students craned their necks to see what McGonagall was going to say.

The dozen or so students left behind gathered closer to McGonagall’s table, wary. Ernie Macmillan and Anthony Goldstein stood close together, while Ginny came up to hold Harry’s hand, leaning into him. Padma stood near Parvati, who looked lost a little lost without Lavender. A few students Harry didn’t immediately recognize looked at McGonagall with the expression of a kicked puppy.

“Now,” she said, disappearing the large tables and conjuring a smaller table for them to sit at simultaneously. “I know your educations were sporadic and interrupted, and almost all of you missed your O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts. This will be overlooked, and you may attend whichever classes you’d like to finish your education. However, you I will ask that you continue to attend Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration, as they are vital to your lives as witches and wizards.”

Hermione was trying hard not to jump out of her seat at the thought, but the rest of them sighed heavily. It seemed trivial to be back at Hogwarts as if nothing ever happened. N.E.W.Ts are required for almost every job in the Wizarding world, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care.

McGonagall handed out a few schedules, not personal ones, but a master schedule. “Use this to decide when and what you’d like to go to,” she said. Ginny smirked a little and McGonagall pierced her with a sharp look.

“Only eighth years get this privilege, Miss Weasley. Those of you who are within the seven years of Hogwarts will follow normal procedure, along with extra classes or tutoring as needed.” Ginny’s smirk dropped into a pout and Harry stifled a snort. “Now, off to bed. The rules still apply, so no wandering around out of bed after hours.” She fixed Harry with a look and he quickly stared at his hands, trying not to smile a little. Him? Out of bed after curfew? How ever had she gotten an idea like that?

However, it did put a damper on his evening activities. Sleep was evasive most nights, and wandering the halls of Grimmauld Place had helped.

_ There goes that plan _ , he thought sourly. Still, he was the last one to leave the hal. The rest of the group was quickly caught up in their own conversations and didn't notice he was hanging back. Funny, really, considering the last seven years Harry couldn’t cough without someone noticing. He wasn’t really sure which one he preferred.

“Mr. Potter, I thought I told you off to bed.” McGonagall swept over to Harry, her green robes billowing. She looked at him over the edges of her glasses. He grinned a little lopsidedly, and McGonagall’s heart squeezed because he looked so much like James just then.

“Sorry, Professor,” he mumbled, though there was little regret in his tone. His eyes drifted to a window, where he could see Hagrid’s cabin puffing smoke from the chimney, lights twinkling merrily. McGonagall, who never missed a beat, followed his eyeline and sighed.

“I have a long day tomorrow. Good night, Mr. Potter.”

“Good night, Professor,” he said, watching in stunned silence as she swept off to her rooms near Gryffindor Tower. He’d never gotten permission to sneak out of the castle after curfew before. Grinning, Harry made his way outside and down towards Hagrid’s house.


	2. tea with hagrid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! im greatly enjoying this story, even though it's only two chapters long!! i hope you're enjoying it too!
> 
> this will probably update rapidly as i'm avoiding all my responsibilities at college, so stay tuned!
> 
> as of 12/6/18: this chapter has been updated

The walk down to Hagrid’s would only take a few minutes, but Harry dragged out the trip by taking detours. It was still early, so he knew Hagrid would be awake when Harry finally made his way down. For once, he was out without the Invisibility Cloak, without pressing matters, without death hanging over his head. He breathed in the crisp air, closing his eyes. The wind rustled the leaves of the Forbidden Forest, which no longer held that shiver of fear it did when he was eleven.

Harry saw the giant squid splashing in the water and he smiled a little. The normality of Hogwarts was nice, even though there were still crumbling ramparts, flowers and vigils lay around the halls and grounds, and everyone was a little more subdued, even Peeves. He still wasn’t sure if he  _ wanted _ to be here, but something about it felt nice.

A familiar screech drew his attention as he drew closer to Hagrid’s cabin. Harry turned his head to see the bright eyes of Buckbeak staring at him. Clicking his beak at Harry, he stomped his feet a little and pranced around. Obviously, he wanted attention.

Smiling faintly, Harry dipped into a slow bow, maintaining eye contact with Hagrid’s favorite pet all the while. A few tense seconds passed before Buckbeak bowed back and Harry approached him, his fingers seeking the silky feel of his feathers.

“Long time, no see, Buckbeak,” he said with a small grin. Then he heaved a sigh, burying his face in Buckbeak’s neck. “You were there during the battle… I wonder what you saw…” Buckbeak clicked his beak quietly and Harry looked into the giant beast’s eyes and knew Buckbeak had seen enough.

“I wish that weren’t my most recent memory of Hogwarts… The Prophet’s been asking me to come back and do photo shoots and stories and whatever else they can come up with… Everyone treats me killing Volde--You-Know-Who like this big deal… And it is, but… I’m not some hero. I killed someone, Buckbeak. He may have been an evil wizard determined to slaughter millions of people, but he used to be a person… I knew Tom Riddle, not just Vol--You-Know-Who. And Tom and I, we’re more alike than I’d care to admit to a human.” Buckbeak nudged Harry’s shoulder and Harry rubbed his beak. “Of course, you’re much more intelligent than a human.”

Harry blinked away tears as memories swarmed unbidden to the surface. They tumbled from his mouth before he could even think to stop them.

“I saw my parents. Before I died. Sirius and Remus too… They were with me until the very end.” Tears flooded his eyes and he didn’t want to stop them anymore. “Y’know, so many people died for me, just so I could defeat Tom Riddle. But why did it have to be me? I was a kid… I don’t even know how to be a teenager anymore. I don’t know what mischief to get up to because all the mischief I’d caused was in the name of stopping You-Know-Who! And everything is supposed to go back to “normal”? Like I know what normal is? Like several of my friends and all of my family aren’t dead because of him… Like nothing ever happened?”

Buckbeak screeched and reared from Harry, who quickly dropped into another bow on instinct, backing away from Buckbeak. He still felt silky feathers beneath his fingers. Confused, he looked down to see a few bent feathers sticking out from his clenched fist. He must have been gripping him too tightly.

“Sorry, Buckbeak,” Harry said as he backed away further.

“Who’s there?!” Hagrid yelled, his door swinging open, a crossbow in his hands. Fang barked loudly, bounding out towards Harry at high speed, his tail wagging so hard Harry couldn’t see it. The excited dog knocked Harry to the ground, slobbering all over him. Harry let out a quiet laugh and excitedly pet him while also trying to shove him off.

Hagrid placed his crossbow down inside the house and came out to remove his overly excited dog from Harry’s chest.

“Ge’ back, yeh grea’ oaf!” Hagrid grabbed Fang’s collar to nudge him away from the now slobbery young wizard.  “Sorry ‘bout tha’,” Hagrid said, pulling Harry to his feet. He was handed the tablecloth-sized handkerchief to dry himself.

“It’s alright, Hagrid. I missed him too.” Fang nudged Harry’s hand for more pets and he obliged, losing his train of thought as he scratched behind the great boar hound’s ear. He really had missed Fang… Maybe he should get a dog...

“Come on in, Harry, migh’ as well ‘ave tea while yer here.” His tone was disgruntled but Harry could see the smile making his beard twitch. Once they were inside, Harry sat himself at the rather large table, watching as Hagrid bustled around getting tea together. Fang settled himself near Harry’s lap, still looking for head scratches.

The smells and sounds of Hagrid’s cabin relaxed Harry; he’d spent many fun afternoons with Hagrid his first few years here. He was at home here, too. 

“Alrigh’, Harry?” Hagrid asked, setting the large cup in front of Harry.

“I’m doing alright. You, Hagrid?” Using both hands, Harry lifted the bucket-like cup and took a small sip. Across from him, the giant’s eyes lit up. Hagrid often wanted someone to simply talk to him, which was why his only friends were three children, though they were adults now.

“Brilliant! Buckbeak’s lovin’ the weather, and Grawpy is up in the mountains where we hid durin’ the war. Both are lovin’ the open air like yeh wouldn’ believe! An’ yeh won’ guess wha’ I got fer this year’s Care o’ Magical Creatures…” Hagrid started talking about the animals he’d been able to acquire, getting more and more excited the longer he talked.

Harry simply nodded along, smiling. While he may not share Hagrid’s depth of love for magical creatures, he loved listening to Hagrid talk. Strange creatures made even stranger sounds from various parts of the room, and the whole cabin creaked with age and weight. The sounds were comforting to him. 

With the warmth of Hagrid’s cabin and the reassuring rumble of Hagrid’s voice, Harry quickly drifted off to sleep next to his half-empty mug.

When Hagrid’s voice broke through his hazy half-dream state, he wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed. 

“Harry? Harry, are yeh alrigh’?” Harry blinked slowly, lifting his face from where it had been pillowed on his arms and looked into Hagrid’s concerned face.

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He shook his head, rubbing his face quickly. “Just not been sleeping well, is all.” Hagrid didn't say anything while Harry readjusted to being awake again. When Hagrid spoke next, it was the quietest Harry had ever heard him speak.

“Wha’ yeh went through… No one shoulda gone through tha’.... If yeh wan’ to talk… Me door’s always open.” The way he looked at Harry was too fatherly, too loving, and Harry couldn’t stand that. He stood quickly, clearing his throat.

“Thank you Hagrid, honestly. I need to get going, though. Thanks for the tea, and I’ll send you an owl when I’ve got free time for tea again.” Harry gave him a quick grin that he returned. Hagrid gave him a gentle hand on the shoulder before seeing him out. Swallowing the emotions rising in his throat, Harry sauntered up the hill towards the school, his hands in his pockets.

Hagrid watched Harry walk back towards the school and frowned. There was a swagger in his walk he’d never had before. It wasn’t arrogance. It was the sort of quiet confidence that comes from the weight of the world settling against the shoulders.

Hagrid couldn’t help but think he looked just like James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make sure you leave kudos and comments if you like what i'm writing!!


	3. renovating that grim old place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to think im clever
> 
> as of 12/7/18 this chapter has been updated

Even though he didn't have to, Harry took History of Magic again. Part of his wondered in Professor Binns even noticed there was a war.

History of Magic was still as dull as he remembered. Even though History of Magic (the parts that didn't include goblin wars) had played a large part of his battle against You-Know-Who, he still couldn’t bring himself to care.

Much like he’d done during his first tenure at Hogwarts, he started thinking about something else. He thought about the renovations he’d done this summer, and the time he’d spent steeped in the Wizarding World like he hadn’t before. It was the first summer he’d never seen the Dursleys. That was weird in and of itself, but it was also the first summer he wasn’t worried about Vold-- You-Know-Who’s plot to kill him. Instead, he worked to make Grimmauld Place a home.

* * *

The house resisted at first, undoing Harry’s work every time he left the room, but magic only lasts through so many sledgehammer blows. Walls were torn out by hand, forcefully opening up space. He wanted to feel like the walls weren’t closing in on him.

Part of that included a paint job.

He had spent  _weeks_ on choosing the paint alone. After agonizing over paint chips for days, Andi asked why he hadn’t looked at magic paint.

“Magic paint?” Harry asked in exasperation.

“Yes dear, magic paint. It withstands years of dust and living and can only be covered by more magic paint. With all the bad in this house, you’ll need it.”

Harry groaned and dramatically scattered the paint chips covering the table. “You couldn’t have mentioned this  _a week ago_?” he asked in exasperation.

“I have to get amusement  _somewhere_ ,” she said with a wicked grin.

“I want the house to be bright,” Harry said, staring at the new paint chips they’d collected. “No more dark, cloistering colors. I don’t want Teddy to grow up like that.”

“There’s one in here… Ah! Here it is!” Andi held up the little piece of paper for Harry to see. It was light blue and _perfect_. “You can specify what day and time, too,” she said, which convinced Harry. Merlin, he loved magic.

They repeated the process for every room in the house. Some took longer, like Teddy’s room, and Harry’s. Others, like the kitchen and dining room, were much, much easier.

Andi went with him to buy the paint, Teddy in tow. Thankfully, it didn't take too long to order all of the colors they needed. As they made their way to the till, Andi stopped Harry to point out another bucket of paint.

“You’ll want this,” Andi said, turning to show Harry a bucket of paint.

“Removes the previous owner’s influence in one coat,” he murmured, readjusting Teddy on his hip. “It sounds like a really good idea.”

Harry, standing off to the side with a fussy Teddy, heard the witch behind the counter tell Andi, “You purchase one can, tell us how many you might need, and the can will fill with what you paid for as you need it.” So instead of a dozen cans of paint, Andi and Harry left with six cans of paint. (Thank Merlin for levitating spells.) They very carefully made it through the Floo.

The first task was to lay Teddy down for a nap. The second was to start painting. The base coat went on easily enough, but the rest of the house took days. Of course, Harry insisted on doing it the Muggle way, which just made it take longer. But slowly, the house became more and more friendly.

Despite Harry and Andi’s attempts to cheer the stuffy estate, one piece of furniture left a lot to be desired.

“FILTH! BLOOD TRAITORS IN MY ANCESTRAL HOME!” she shrieked as Harry dropped a book in the hall, startling the curtains open. Cursing, he picked the book up, clutching it in his left hand. Mrs. Black continued to shriek about the nature of the people living in her home and Harry had had enough. All through the renovations, she’d screamed and shrieked until Harry cast _Muffliato_ on her little space, desperate to get Teddy to sleep.

Anger bubbled to the surface with _more_ of Mrs. Black’s screeching, and he spun on his heel to face the portrait.

“Shut _up_ you, old hag! Nobody needs input from a dead woman’s portrait about the manner of people who come in and out of this house, as it is my house now! Now, if you would KINDLY keep your screams to yourself, there is a toddler who lives here! I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to put him back to bed for the _fourth bloody time_ because the pipes are banging too loud for your liking!”

Her oil-paint eyes stared at him for a moment before opening her mouth to scream again but Harry looked her in the eyes with the sort of blankness and ferocity he’d developed in the war. His next words were even and measured, lacking the emotion from seconds earlier. Walburga was getting on his last nerve, and Ron had worn through most of those while they were camping.

“I’m removing your painting and making sure none of it can be salvaged. Now SHUT UP!” Harry slammed the curtains against her screaming that had started once he’d threatened her. Exhaustion washed over him and he slumped against the wall, glad her screams quieted in the darkness of the curtains.

“Alright, Harry?” Andi said, peeking her head around the corner. “I heard _her_.”

He didn't answer her question. There were more important things to talk about. “Andi, is there any way you know of to get rid of a Permanent Sticking Charm?” He asked, fiddling with the book in his hands.

“Well… Not really, no. Thinking of getting rid of that old hag?”

“Do you know how to go about creating a spell?” He ran his hand through his hair, his mind racing through any and everything he could think of that might remove Walburga.

“That’s dangerous work, Harry…” At the look on his face, she sighed but relented. “But I can ask around.”

Harry mumbled his thanks as he headed up the stairs to the expansive library. Andi watched him, frowning slightly.

Harry spent most of his days now in the library, reading up on _something_ to get that woman out of his house. He often wrote Hermione for help, sending owls upon owls, until finally, Hermione showed up on their fire grate.

“For goodness’ sake, Harry! I live just a floo away and yet you insist on writing owls like we’re countries apart!” she reprimanded, dusting her Muggle clothes quickly before stepping into the house properly.

“I wasn’t thinking.” She started to respond, but Harry didn't hesitate before launching into his request. “Hermione, do you think you could help me create a Permanent Removal Charm?”

“I only know how to in theory… The Arithmancy _alone_ … We’d have to go through the Ministry…” At Harry’s grimace, she sighed. She knew Harry would rather avoid the Ministry at all costs, so spell creation was out the window.

“Well, what else have you tried?” she asked, already moving with him towards the library.

“Every spell I bloody know and even a few I found–”

“Did you ever think of potions?” Hermione cut him off and Harry opened and closed his mouth quickly, brows drawing together. Then his face split into a grin and he hugged her.

“Hermione, you’re brilliant.” Harry kissed her cheek before entering the library, calling every potions book he had to him before returning with the levitating stack. They settled into the potions lab in the basement, pens and papers and books scattered between the two of them, a couple of cauldrons set in front of them. Harry told Kreacher to keep the tea coming.

They took small breaks every so often to go up and study the painting, how it was attached to the wall, what might work and so on. Hermione gagged Walburga in much the same manner she’d blindfolded Phineas during the war. Of course, the black expression on the painting’s face gave an idea to the thoughts she had about the “filth” in her house, but Harry was glad to shut her up while examining the painting.

Hermione’s hair frizzed up the more potions they brewed, but still no results. By dinner, Harry’s glasses were heavily smudged, he and Hermione reeked of a mixture of potions, her hair was the same frizziness as their first year, and they were no closer to getting rid of the blasted painting.

They walked dejectedly into the kitchen, Hermione taking a seat at the kitchen table while Harry picked up Teddy, bouncing him around and allowing the little tyke to gnaw on his potion-free fingers while he paced the kitchen.

Andi made her way in, humming quietly, headed to the small empty hearth at one end of the kitchen. She knelt down, tossing the kindling into the fire, arranging the logs on top. It had been raining for several days, and a chill had seeped into the house that they couldn’t seem to banish.

It’s not _dementors_ , Harry reminded himself as he took another round across the kitchen.

“Andi… Why are you doing that without magic?” Hermione asked, thoroughly confused, drawing Harry out of his thoughts. Though Hermione had grown up Muggle as well, there was nothing more tedious than starting a fire without magic.

“Well, dear, I’ve been married to a Muggle-born for a long time… And he taught me to appreciate doing things for yourself like the Muggles do. There’s just something about setting up a fire yourself, watching the match spark and catch on the logs. It’s so much better than doing it with your wand.” She smiled sadly at the memory of Ted, and Harry moved closer with Teddy. Andi stood as the fire finally caught and took Teddy from Harry’s arms before settling herself next to Hermione at the table. Harry looked down at the fire, deep in thought.

The wizarding community was so used to using magic, they never bothered to even _imagine_ doing things the Muggle Way.

“Andi, is it possible that Walburga put protections on her painting against Muggle means?” he asked quietly over the din of dinner being served.

“Well… No, I wouldn’t think she would,” Andi said, after a moment’s contemplation. “She believed muggles were beneath her, and therefore anything they thought to do was beneath her.” There was a stillness in the room as everyone sat contemplating what that meant. Harry stared at the fire, thinking of everything he’d learned in his years at Hogwarts and the time he spent fighting away from Hogwarts.

“Maybe we should try burning the painting with Muggle fire,” Hermione said. She was obviously a little upset she hadn’t thought of it before.

In a flash, Harry and Hermione were gathering kindling and matches before running to the painting in the front hall. Hermione shoved the kindling between the frame and canvas, trying to get as much in as possible. When she finished, she backed up and looked at Harry.

“Ready?” she asked quietly. He nodded and swiped the match against the box. The fire came without the usual tingle of magic that left his fingers but still it burned. He laid the match against the kindling, striking a few more to ensure the painting caught.

The fire steadily ate up the kindling. Once it ate the kindling, it licked at the canvas before devouring it almost instantly. Apparently, magic paintings were _great_ for fires. The acrid smell of burning paint and charms filled the hall. Hermione turned away coughing, but Harry stared at the fire as it changed colors while the charms came undone.

The fire, contained very quickly after it had started, slowly sputtered out as the canvas and frame were reduced to ash.

Harry stared at the ashes at his feet, a grin starting to spread across his face. It was the first time he’d really smiled in what felt like years. She was finally _gone_. A huge sense of relief washed over him.

“Ding dong, the witch is dead,” Hermione said, barely containing her giggles.

“Oh, happy day,” Harry replied. Together, they all returned to the kitchen and settled in again, smiles on their faces as they finished their dinner.

After the table had been cleared, Harry and Andi did dishes together while Hermione sat in the living room, playing with Teddy. The quiet domesticity was nice, especially in the wake of the second death of Walburga Black. Harry grinned at the thought as he dried dishes, placing them in a stack next to him.

“Harry,” Andi said, looking over at the boy she’d claimed as her son. “I want you to know Sirius would be so proud of you today.” She watched tears form in his eyes at the mention of his godfather’s name and he turned to her slightly, twisting the dish towel in his hands.

“I miss him, Andi… And I want to make him proud...” he said in a quiet voice. Tears fell down his face, tears he doesn’t remember if he shed when Sirius died.

“Oh, honey…” She pulled him to her and Harry rested his head on her shoulder. Minutes passed in relative silence as Harry cried for the family he’d lost, but when he pulled away from Andi, he was grateful for the family he’d gained. Andi patted his cheek before turning back to the washing.

“Alright, love, off you pop. You get Teddy ready for bed while I finish up here. And no arguing, young man.” Harry snapped his mouth shut when she gave him a firm look that reminded him much of Molly Weasley. Harry kissed her cheek and left to collect Teddy from Hermione.

The next day, Harry knocked over the umbrella stand in the entry hall as he came in from the store. He listened as it clattered to the floor, followed by blissful silence.


	4. all else has become absolutely trivial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is longer than most the rest lmao but its still too short imo
> 
> as of 12/10/18 this chapter as been edited. NOTE: IT HAS BEEN COMPLETELY REFORMATTED SO THINGS NO LONGER EXIST IN THIS CHAPTER, OR HAVE BEEN MOVED AROUND, PLEASE REREAD THIS CHAPTER

History of Magic ended without any fireworks. Though Harry had enjoyed the time to daydream, he went to McGonagall to drop the class.

“I’m not sure why I even added it,” he said, shaking his head as he threw himself haphazardly into a chair in her office.

“Mr. Potter, you didn't have to come all the way up here to tell me you aren’t taking this class. You could have stopped going and been fine. You aren’t even taking the N.E.W.T. for it.” McGonagall sounded a little exasperated that Harry was draped across the chair, interrupting her work. What looked like Transfiguration essays were scattered across her desk, a rubric off to the side.

“...Oh, well, in that case…” Harry stood, opened his mouth to say something else then shut it again. He turned awkwardly to walk from her office before McGonagall spoke again.

“But, since you’re here, would you like to have some tea?” With a grin and a nod, Harry plopped back down into the chair. McGonagall moved to grab a teapot and boiled the water with a flick of her wrist, pulling cups out of nowhere and calling a tray of cookies up from the kitchens. The sounds were comforting, though short.

“How are classes so far?” she asked after she’d settled back behind the desk.

“The Defense class is… Not what I expected. Their education has been so sporadic, it’s hard to know where to start I’ve been running rudimentary classes for the last month, just trying to catch them up.” The fourth years had suffered through Barty Crouch, Jr., Umbridge, Snape, and Carrow, all of whom were _l_ _ess_ than suitable, to put it kindly.

“You’ll find a way, I’m sure.” McGonagall peered over her glasses at him, a twinkle in her eye that reminded Harry painfully of Dumbledore. He briefly wondered if the twinkling eyes was a characteristic of Head of the school. “You’ve never been conventional and I nothing less from this class.” Harry gave her a small smile but quickly covered it by taking a long drink of his tea.

Harry was suddenly reminded of the last time they'd had tea. It hadn’t ended… nicely.

* * *

A portion of the old Dumbledore’s Army had come over for tea like they’d been doing once or twice a week since everyone had settled back into normal life when McGonagall had appeared on Grimmauld Place’s doorstep two weeks before classes started. She was desperate to find a new teacher for Defense, as everyone was still convinced the post was cursed.

“There are no more Order members to ask, and the Wizarding world at large has heard of the curse and are refusing me! I even asked an _American_ ,” McGonagall whispered fervently before taking a long drink of her tea. The cup clattered back into the saucer as Harry and his friends stared at her. They shared confused looks before Neville, being the bravest of them, asked outright. “What _exactly_ do you want us to do about it, Professor?”

“Understand that this is temporary, but I’m asking you five to take over. We can designate classes and you lot can rotate, but I am at wit’s end trying to find a new professor.”

Harry was just about to open his mouth and say no thank you when Hermione interjected and said, “Professor, do you have the master schedule with you?”

Without asking his opinion, his friends set about breaking up the class schedules that worked best for them.

Neville took the first years, knowing they’d be less harsh if he messed up and knowing that they’d need less attention than the older students.

Seamus asked for the second and third years, muttering that he wanted to teach them as Remus had taught them.

Hermione gladly claimed fifth and seventh years, excited to teach everything she knew on the Dark Arts. She took O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s seriously, and no one could help them better than Hermione.

Dean said he’d take the sixth years, knowing they especially would need someone who’s kind and patient; plus, he’d mastered nonverbal spells during the war and was excited to teach his method.

Which left Harry with the fourth years. _Bloody brilliant_ , he mused to himself as he sullenly drank the last of the tea in his cup. He didn’t  _want_ to teach.

Harry didn’t notice Dean and Seamus leave to get supplies for their class, or Neville and Luna leave discussing syllabi excitedly, or Hermione Apparating without a goodbye to tell Ron the news.

The other students would look up at him like he was a hero, like those who’d signed up for Dumbledore’s Army had. They would think he had immense skill and power, but he was still a kid. Legally an adult in two worlds, but that meant shite to him when he had been a child soldier.

“Professor…” Harry started hesitantly. He and McGonagall were on a more even footing now that the war was over and all was said and done, but he still felt like a first year when he looked at her sharp eyes and stern face.

“You’re reluctant to teach.” She wasn’t accusing him or asking him a question, it was simply a statement. Harry nodded, his face screwed up against everything welling up inside him.

“They’re going to look at me and see a hero. But, Professor, I’m not. Despite everything I’ve done, I’m  _not_ The Chosen One they want me to be. I just… I did what was I was made to do. Not because destiny or whatever chose me, but because there was someone else controlling the strings...” He trailed off, thoroughly confused about how he saw himself now.

Before, he’d been in the public eye at every turn, but he’d ignored what they said because there were bigger things to battle against. Now that the war was over, he was having a minor identity crisis. He’d rather everyone believe he was still an enemy of the Ministry than believe he’s this chosen hero.

“But Potter, you  _were_ chosen. By whatever fluke of nature, Voldemort chose you first. Your mother’s love protected you in a way none of us could have imagined. Everything after… Well, it seems you have a little Felix Felicis in your veins, Potter, but--”

Harry sat up angrily, fire flashing in his eyes. He’d never had a row with McGonagall but there was a first time for everything, he supposed.

“What happened to me wasn’t bloody luck. It was a system that failed me and a group of fucking  _kids_ forced to fight for their lives! I was made a public enemy before I was barely an adult! I was tortured, often!” He showed her his fist again, the words _I must not tell lies_ standing out starkly against his clenched fist. “I did what I bloody had to to simply survive! What was left of my family was murdered by Volde--” A shuddering gasp shook Harry before he changed course. “You-Know-Who. Friends, people who’d become my family, were murdered. And you think I have a little Felix Felicis in my veins?! NONE of what happened to me was fucking luck, _Professor_.”

Harry was standing now, looking at McGonagall in the winged chair. As he glared at her, his chest heaving a little from yelling, she took a long sip of her tea before placing the cup and saucer on the table. Her eyes met his, and Harry expected anger or the look she got before admonishing him, but there was only sadness.

“But you didn’t get to be that way alone. You’ve had help. Even when it seemed like nothing was going right, there were people to help you. You are so much like your father, always looking for trouble. You have your mother’s curiosity as well. Together, those two were dangerous.” McGonagall smiled softly, tears gathering in her eyes. “What happened never should have. It was a failure on everyone’s part, but specifically Dumbledore’s. But it’s a bloody miracle you came out alive, Potter, and I’d call that luck. Lucky that Voldemort’s soul broke off and planted itself in you, lucky that everything played out the way it did. I’m not discounting what you lost. The fact that you stand here today as whole as you can be is lucky. And _that_ ’ _s_ why you’re a hero, Mr. Potter, because you’re still standing.”

She stood slowly, her robes unfurling gracefully. She pinned Harry with a look he couldn’t name, a look that was somewhere between disappointment and sadness, with a hint of that look she gave him before admonishing him.

“You’ve survived the Killing Curse, not once but  _twice_ , from one of the most brutal Dark Wizards of our time, Harry. You are a hero, whether you believe it or not.” With a flash of her green robes she was in the fireplace and the words _“Hogsmeade, Three Broomsticks!_ ” were lost in the rush of eerie green fire. Harry sank back to the couch, staring at the remnants of the social tea Kreacher had put together.

 _You’re a hero whether you believe it or not_. Her words echoed in his ears as he sank into the chair. Harry wanted to sink into the floor because  _he’d just yelled at Minerva McGonagall_.

* * *

Days floated past Harry with little impression. His work was of little importance to him and sleep never came. Instead, he wandered the halls at all hours. Being back at Hogwarts brought back conflicting emotions. For years, Hogwarts had felt safe until it wasn’t anymore. He’d watched friends die in these halls. He’d died in the forest. It was so _complicated_ and he didn't have the word to explain it to his friends, so he wandered instead.

He wandered to the places that had huge impacts on his life. If he looked close enough, he could see the oil splatter from where he’d dropped a lantern in the Forbidden Section of the library. The one-eyed witch that had provided Harry an escape to Hogsmeade. The prefects’ bathroom. The troll painting. The stairs to the astronomy tower.

All of these places were important to Harry, for various reasons. Some he avoided. Others seemed to call out to him, wanting to return him to a simpler time when You-Know-Who had simply been a bad dream to children.

Sometimes, it all became too much. He would escape to try and get the Room of Requirement to open so could properly escape. But a door never appeared. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, it stayed firmly closed.

Today was one such day. He’d been pacing in front of the Room of Requirement, asking it for a place to escape for a little while. The door never showed and Harry sighed, looking at the ceiling. After the Fiendfyre, he understood why the room was reluctant to let him enter.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, sinking to the floor across from the painting. There were footsteps at the end of the hall, but Harry didn't bother to look.

“Who are you talking to Harry?” a dreamy voice asked. Luna sank down next to Harry, who said, “Myself.” She sat her books beside her, obviously expecting to be here a while. Her eyes wandered up and down the hall, and she let silence settle between the two.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” she said quietly into the silence. Harry looked at her with wide eyes. Luna believed in a lot of strange things, but nothing was ever _weird_ to her.

“I’m sorry, weird?” Harry spluttered.

“We spent so much time in our fifth year in there, and then again when the war started. Itt was a safe space. A base. Home. But now it won’t even open its doors when it feels like we need that place more than ever. It’s...weird,” she said again.

“The Room is just mad that we ruined part of it. I’m worried the charms are broken…”

“Oh Fiendfyre couldn’t ruin charms as old as those, Harry,” Luna said with a faint laugh dancing through her words as if Harry were being silly. “Horcruxes, yes. But charms as ancient and powerful as those?” She shook her head with a smile. Harry looked at her, frustrated. Of course, it seemed simple to her. She was _Luna_. But the inner workings of magic were entirely lost on Harry.

“Then how do we get it to respond?” Harry threw a glare at the door, scowling slightly. _Yes_ , it was technically Harry’s fault the Room of Lost Things had been burnt to a crisp but the room didn’t have to pout about it! For Merlin’s sake, it was a _room_!

“Just keep asking. Eventually, it’ll give in because it can’t deny its purpose.” Luna’s words settled heavy in Harry’s chest and she stood slowly, gathering her books. “Well, I’m off. Goodbye, Harry,” Luna said softly as she seemingly floated to the end of the hall, disappearing around the corner.

He thought about what Luna said for a long time, staring at the wall where a door should have been until he remembered he had a class to teach that afternoon.

“Fuck,” he said, scooping his bag off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder as he ran down the hall. He was _late_.

* * *

“Good afternoon,” Harry said as he strode into Defense classroom, a week after Luna talked with him in front of the Room of Requirement. If he was breathing a little heavy, no one noticed. Getting to class on time was not his strong suit. “Would you please put all your books back in your bags, today’s lesson is a practical lesson. Wands only.” The students quickly scrambled to do as The Chosen One asked before turning to look at him expectantly.

“Right then,” Harry said awkwardly, looking at the eager faces in front of him. He was still unsure how to act around children not much younger than himself, but they had a lesson to get to. “Well, if you’ll follow me.”

The class fell in line behind him as they marched from the Defense classroom. Students whispered excitedly as they walked along the corridors to an unknown location. Paintings shouted out hellos to Harry, ghosts nodded their greetings politely, other students giggled at Harry as he led a line of students towards an unknown destination. They climbed the five flights of stairs necessary to reach the seventh-floor corridor, and the class stopped at one end of the hall containing the painting of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls.

The class looked around expectantly, checking every possible corner for what they would be doing that day, the chatter rising with their excitement. He told them to stay put while he got their lesson ready for the day.

He wanted this to be a surprise, so kept his voice low as he muttered, “ _I need the practice space for Dumbledore’s Army, please…_ ”

Several minutes passed before a highly polished door appeared to rise from the stone, brass fittings gleaming in the light of the torches along the wall. Smiling, Harry opened the door to find the same well-furnished room he’d taught an army of kids to fight in. The thought hit him like a bag of stones, but he left the door open and turned to face the curious students at the end of the hall. They hesitated until Harry beckoned the students to come into their temporary classroom.

“This is where I taught Dumbledore’s Army how to fight You-Know-Who and his followers,” Harry started. The fourth years settled onto the silk cushions while Harry stood in the same place he had three years ago, giving a rousing speech about rebellion. “It’s bigger than our classroom and is a lot safer, so it’ll be a great place to work on the actual spellwork.”

He took a deep breath before he grinned. “Unfortunately, I will not be teaching you how to rebel against the system. Learn that in your own time. Instead, we’re going to start with _Expelliarmus_ today. It’s a simple charm, and it can be very useful in a number of situations. Here, let me show you…” Harry turned and found one of the beat-up dummies standing against a wall, waiting for him to use. He moved it to stand opposite him, a piece of wood standing in for a wand clutched in its hand.

Harry walked through the stance, the spell itself, the wand work before focusing on the dummy.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” he shouted, his hand reaching for the flying wand instinctively. The class gasped and clapped and Harry turned around, swallowing. “Now, er, catching the wand isn’t necessary for this exercise, it’s simply a habit… You want to focus on disarming your opponent, so focus on their wand, not them. The flick of your wrist should be sharp, but don’t focus too hard on it. It should feel natural.”

Fifteen students stared at him, blinking owlishly. “Er, now, pair up and settle the cushions around you. Try to disarm each other. I’ll walk through and help you as needed. On the count of three. One, two, three--” The acrid smell of magic filled the air as the spells went awry, causing books to fall and other objects to fly across the room.

“Not bad for your first time,” Harry commented. He walked around, fixing postures and wand grips before calling out, “Again!”

The class continued like this, spells shooting everywhere, Harry correcting students gently as they needed it. Only a few students managed to successfully disarm their opponent, but the whole class made a lot of progress anyway. The hour ended all too quickly and Harry dismissed them, telling them their next few classes would be here in the this room.

“Just meet here next time, there’s no need to parade through the school,” he said with a grin as the students filed out of the room. Once the last student had closed the door, Harry turned around and let out a sigh. He remembered vividly what the first meeting had been like, the sense of rebellion and accomplishment that followed. Now there was just an ache while he assessed where the students could improve.

The door creaked open and Harry saw Hermione and Neville peeking their heads in in the mirror in front of him.

“Harry?” Hermione called out, stepping properly into the room. A weird sense of deja vu settled over Harry watching his friends coming into the room.

“In here,” he replied, turning back to look into the Foe Glass. Instead of shadowy figures shifting in the back, it was empty and only Harry stared back. The pictures and news clippings from their fifth year were still attached to the top, their edges curling with age. His parents and the Order members smiled and shifted around in their picture.

“Why did you call up the old DA room?” Neville asked, coming to stand beside him to look at his parents, smiling and happy and whole.

Harry shrugged one shoulder as he answered Neville, “I wanted to teach the fourth years defensive spells. You guys learned easily in this setting. Maybe it was the idea of rebelling that made you good students or that you knew you were safe here, but whatever it was, I’m hoping it’ll work on them too.” He stared around the room a little mournfully and Hermione grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

“It’s a brilliant idea, Harry.” Neville nodded enthusiastically. Time stretched out between the three of them before Neville mentioned restarting the Duelling Club. “I think it’d be nice for everyone to let out some tension in a controlled manner,” Neville said. “And Harry, you could help out if you wanted.”

“It’s a lovely idea,” Hermione said. “It’d have the same effect on the students that the DA had.”

“It is a good idea, but I don’t want anything to do with Duelling anymore,” Harry told them. “I’m tired of fighting.”

Neville opened his mouth to say something but Harry walked towards the door, ignoring his friends’ requests for him to come back.

Why did everyone think he always wanted to be involved in fighting, in defense?? He knew a fraction of the spells the Order had known, and he had only known a miniscule amount of the ones the Death Eaters had used against him. His repertoire of spells included the basic defensive spells and a few of those from the Half-Blood Prince. Fighting wasn’t his strong suit, it just happened to be what he _had_ to be good at to survive.

Harry stalked through the castle, his thoughts dogging him the whole way. His feet carried him of their own accord, and suddenly he found himself standing in front a picture of a bowl of fruit. The pear giggled as Harry tickled it and the door swung open to reveal the warmth of the Hogwarts’ kitchen within. Harry stared at the entrance, confused as to why he brought himself here.

It’s not like there was really anything else to do. Quidditch hadn’t started yet, and classes weren’t in full swing yet. With no more sleuthing to do, now that his purpose had been served, Harry found himself bored all.the.time. All the secrets of You-Know-Who’s plans had been discovered, all the mysteries of his life and everything that involved had been revealed. Writing two rolls of parchment on the theory of Amortentia was less than thrilling after the plots he’d been forced to foil in his first six years.

Hermione was always working, and Ron wasn’t even at Hogwarts, and everyone else seemed to walk on eggshells around him, so Harry felt more and more isolated.

Exploration was mostly a bad idea, too. Parts of the castle were off limits to students, the magical residue from the Battle causing problems. The castle was healing too. So Harry decided it was best not to provoke the castle by roaming around, picking at healing wounds. So, the only area that held a tiny bit of interest was the kitchens.

When he stepped in, Harry’s stomach growled as the comforting smells of _food_ wafted towards him. He remembered that he’d skipped lunch to try and convince the Room of Requirement to let him teach again.

“Harry Potter!” a familiar voice squeaked. Harry looked down to find Winky hurrying over to him, her beautifully embroidered pillowcase billowing around her, and a small smile worked its way through his rotten mood.

“Hello Winky,” Harry said. “Is there any way I could get something to eat? I skipped lunch to prepare for a class…” He ducked his head with a sheepish grin while the house-elf looked at him sternly.

“Harry Potter is not to be forgetting to eat.” Winky’s words held the same kind of affection Mrs. Weasley always had when she reprimanded him for not eating well enough while making extra food for Harry.

He sat at the low table in the kitchen, watching the house-elves run around to prepare Harry a plate. There was a scoff from the far end of the table and Harry’s wand was drawn before he could think, eyes locked on the slumped figure. He relaxed his arm a little, but he didn’t put away his wand when he recognized the figure at the other end of the table.

“Of course they would want to wait hand and foot on _The Chosen One_ ,” spit the figure as he sat up. Light fell on the sallow face and familiar gray eyes glared at him. They were dull now,  instead of the silver Harry remembered.

“Malfoy,” Harry said, exasperated. He allowed silence to lapse when Winky brought Harry warmed pumpkin juice and a full plate of food with promises of more should he want some. While Winky handed Harry his lunch, an elf Harry had never met brought Malfoy more tea and marzipan cookies. Malfoy openly stared at Harry as he dug into his plate. Malfoy might be offended by Harry’s lack of manners, but he was  _starving_. So, Harry ignored Malfoy’s baleful glare in lieu of scarfing down the amazing food in front of him.

“I’m not leaving,” Malfoy said brusquely, interrupting the tense silence.

“I never asked you to.” Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy, taking a long drink from his goblet. Harry politely asked for a plate of seconds, and then thirds, all while still ignoring Malfoy, who couldn’t seem to stop staring.

They passed the time it took Harry to eat like this, terse silence only broken by the clinking of china on china and the thud of metal on wood. Exhausted by the staring contest and full from the warm comfort food, Harry rose and thanked the house elves for their generosity. Malfoy gaped like a fish at him for a minute before speaking as Harry reached the portrait door.

“You aren’t going to threaten me or--or fight me? Or even insult me?” He sounded sincerely confused, as if he wanted Harry’s anger to be directed towards him. Harry gave a heavy sigh and turned around to face Malfoy. The Slytherin stood up, looking like he was ready to fight. But there was hesitation in his posture because there was already defeat on Harry’s face.

“Malfoy, those days are over. I’m too bloody tired to fuel our rivalry, or whatever this was.” It was the first civil thing Harry had said to Malfoy in Merlin knows how long. _He was too bloody tired_.

“But--” Malfoy stepped forward and Harry looked at him with a scarily blank face. A little frightened of what he found there, Malfoy took a step back.

“Whatever punishment you think you deserve, I’m not going to give it to you. Suffer the consequences of your actions like the bloody rest of us, Malfoy. You don’t get forgiveness or whatever the hell it is you’re searching for by me beating you to a bloody pulp. Find a better way to make amends.” Harry walked out, shutting the portrait behind him. Malfoy may have been searching for retribution, but Harry wasn’t going to start that cycle of violence over again.

He was just too fucking tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i hope everyone is enjoying this! i guess these arent really a part of a cohesive story?? theyre more of a set of one shots, so dont really expect one to tie into the next!
> 
> tas always, leave comments and kudos! they help me a l o t


	5. ireland won the cup, but krum caught the snitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! so if u ever pay any attention to the tags, youll notice i changed the main pairing. while writing the last chapter, i came to the realization that this isnt a hinny fic. while i adore hinny and believe its an amazing ship, i personally dont see it happening in this fic. in my opinion, very few relationships will last through the war. its simply just too much to return to that simple, childish love harry and ginny shared during their sixth and fifth years. but harry and draco have a lot of similar traumas they can bond over. i dont think this will become a relationship fic, i think i'll explore the relationship as it develops over the course of the story. itll probs be awkward dates in hogsmeade with The Gang and more silent nights in the kitchens. As for Ginny, i honestly dont feel like shes the settling down type.
> 
> as of 12/28/18 this fic has been updated!! i added over 1k to this chapter alone,,, (also check out the lie above h a h) IF YOU HAVENT READ CHAPTER FOUR SINCE I UPDATED STOP AND DO THAT NOW there's new information now bc i hate my life

After his confrontation with Malfoy, there were a few awkward attempts at communication passing in the halls and many aborted ones at meals. The only successes came when Harry was on his own. Malfoy seemed to relax a little when Harry wasn’t around his friends. The friendly attempts made them uncomfortable, but Harry didn't mind them. Things needed to heal after the war. His relationship with Malfoy was one of them. They may never be friends, but they could at least be civil.

The Quidditch pitch provided an excuse to be close and friendly without anyone judging them too harshly. Of course, they were never alone, but it was a start. Alongside their regular, single team practices, Harry and the other captains organized small scrimmages against each other for extra practice. It had been years since most of them had flown in something other than battle formations. They needed the most practice they could get.

They held group tryouts to find new students to fill their empty positions. Harry hated trying out  _yet another_ Keeper because Ron had been  _brilliant_ , once he got over the nerves. Harry, with his luck, ended up with another nervous Keeper that dropped the Quaffle more than she caught it. Unfortunately, Hannah was the best of the six that had come out.

“I promise, I won’t let you down!” she squeaked. She was only a third year, but she out flew and outplayed the older students that had tried. Harry gave her a warm grin and a pat on the shoulder.

“Alright, everyone! In the air!” he shouted, swinging onto his broom.

* * *

Practices were often windy, cold, and wet as October became November, but Harry pushed his team nonetheless. They were flying well together when they could get Hannah to focus long enough to block the Quaffle. Ginny could often be heard called Hannah “Ronald.” Despite her lack of finesse, she got the job done, and really, that was what Harry cared about.

The first Quidditch game quickly snuck up on everyone. It was the first game since the war, and energy thrummed through the school. Most of it was excitement because it was the first real game in a long, long time. Some of it was nerves, mostly on the players' side. But nerves were the last thing on Harry’s mind. Even with the first match on the horizon, he couldn’t make himself feel even a fraction of the excitement he used to feel before games. He enjoyed flying, and he enjoyed the wind on his face as he sought the Snitch, but the game itself was rather bland to him at the moment. Winning didn't matter to him, though he knew it mattered to his teammates.  
  
The morning before the match, Harry and Hermione were sitting at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast. Harry was picking at his food, reluctant to eat before his match like he had been so many times before. The match was set to begin before lunch, so the Great Hall was mostly empty.

Hermione sat next across from him, nibbling on toast as she flicked through the pages of the Prophet. Absently, she asked, “Are you excited to play again?”

Verbally replying felt like such an effort, so Harry opted for shrugging instead as he dragged his spoon through his oatmeal. After a few moments, he let out a small sigh, dropping his spoon loudly against his plate. Hermione flicked the newspaper down to look at him sharply.  
  
“What’s wrong?” she asked, giving him that pitying look Molly often gave him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Wanting to ignore it and any conversation about feelings that may follow, Harry shrugged again before forcing a bite of the cardboard oatmeal into his mouth to avoid answering Hermione’s questions. She narrowed her eyes, and, for a moment resembled Professor McGonagall as she examined Harry. After searching his face for a moment, she said softly, “You know we’re all here for you, Harry.”

Her tone wasn’t the scolding one she’d used during school. But she was being gentle and soft with him like he was fragile, and Harry wished she would just go back to scolding him for acting the way he was.  
  
“Thanks, Hermione,” he said instead, a genuine smile on his face. He knew she was there for him, he just didn't know what exactly he felt. She smiled back, briefly placing her hand on his before going back to her paper. Their breakfast was quiet and actually quite nice, but the niceness was disrupted by rowdy students and his team and their excited chatter and exuberant bets.

Harry’s team had been debating the outcome of the match as they entered the Great Hall. Dean had proudly crowed Gryffindor would take the Cup, but of course Ginny couldn’t let a good rib like that go to waste.  
  
“Are you sure about that? My money’s on Hufflepuff,” Ginny said as she plopped down next to Harry. Seamus laughed as Dean rolled his eyes and Harry gave her a mock glare. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, but Harry just squinted his eyes more. Nothing good came from Ginny’s sweetness.  
  
“That’s reassuring coming from my best Chaser,” he said, smirking faintly. The normality felt nice after being stuck in his head for too long.  
  
“Hey!” Dean cried, looking at Harry indignantly. Harry laughed, shoving bacon in his mouth to avoid having to respond to Dean, who was grumbling about an “unfair Captain.” The conversation resumed normality around them.  
  
Discussions of papers and assignments and futures drowned out some of the Quidditch talk, and it gave Harry time to just exist contentedly before the match got underway. Once everyone had eaten their fill, Harry called the team to head towards the pitch. The laughter and camaraderie in the small locker room warmed Harry against the November chill.

They became anxious, though, as the match drew nearer and their Keeper was late.  At almost the last minute, she ran into the locker room amid grumbles from her other teammates. She hurriedly changed into her robes while Harry ran through the last few plays for the game, and then they were out onto the pitch. Screams and cheers and Luna’s lion hat’s roar met their ears and Harry grinned, waving at Hermione and Neville where they cheered next to Luna. He moved to shake the Hufflepuff Captain’s hand, managing to return her smile before mounting his broom.  
  
A few long seconds hung in the air as Harry tensed his legs for kick off. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and he rocketed into the air, flying high above the plays the Chasers had quickly set into motion with Ginny taking point. He kept an eye on his teammates while his eyes scanned the pitch, looking for the Snitch.

While he sat above the game, circling lazily, Harry couldn’t tell if he wanted to catch the Snitch quickly or drag the game out as long as he could. His teammates would appreciate a nice, long game, so he continued to absently scan for the Snitch, drifting closer to the Ravenclaw section of the stands.

As he came to rest in front of the stands, a little above them so as not to block their view, a Bludger whizzed past Harry’s ear. He was forced to jerk upward, raising several feet rapidly to avoid a Bludger to the head. The crowd screamed and ducked as the Bludger soared over their heads. It swerved rapidly back towards the pitch, safely over everyone’s heads this time, before one of the Hufflepuff Beaters swung towards Ginny. Luckily, so was too fast for it.

Across the pitch, Harry spotted the Hufflepuff Beater who hit the bludger grinning. He spun his Firebolt around sharply, already yelling out for Coote and Peakes to do their jobs better before speeding off around the pitch again. Any hint of the Snitch was now lost to the wind after his near miss. A smart play by the Beater, but still annoying.  
  
Harry’s eyes drifted to the Hufflepuff Seeker, waiting to see how she was approaching the Snitch. She seemed to be imitating Cho’s strategy. Cho had tailed him all during their match in third year, cutting him off when she thought it was opportune. The Hufflepuff Seeker seemed to understand Harry’s tactics a little less than Cho because she was circling lower than Harry and in an awkward pattern.  
  
“And that’s another score for Hufflepuff!” Dennis called out in its various iterations as more and more goals slipped past the Gryffindor Keeper. The Hufflepuffs were having a field day scoring, though Harry knew Ginny and Demelza were giving them a run for their money. Harry began to dread the staticky sound of Dennis inhaling to yell out another score for Hufflepuff because frustration was beginning to mount in Harry’s chest; the Snitch was nowhere in sight and they were close to losing as the Hufflepuff Chasers flew circles around Gryffindor’s newest Keeper.

When the score reached one hundred and twenty to Hufflepuff, Harry called a timeout, landing hard on the ground seconds after Madam Hooch agreed to the timeout.  
  
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, looking at the new Keeper. He tried to keep his frustration buried as much as possible. It was her first game, but she was going to cost it to them if she didn't try harder.  
  
“I-- I’m nervous, is all…” She picked at her gloves for a few seconds before sighing. “I know, it’s a lame excuse. I’ll try harder.” Harry knew she was ernest and genuine but he turned to Ginny, Dean, and Demelza anyway.  
  
“You lot keep them busy, just long enough for me to catch the Snitch. Any additional goals for us are just a bonus.”  
  
They took a few more moments to solidify which plays were the best before resuming play. Without ceremony, Harry kicked off again, flying higher for a better outlook. Dennis Creevey called out the plays as best he could and Harry often heard Ginny’s name called out. They scored a couple of goals, but mostly stayed on the defensive. Ginny and the others were playing aggressively, forcing the players to drop the Quaffle of their own accord. Stopping his search for the Snitch for a second, Harry watched Ginny’s ginger hair speed towards the Hufflepuff holding the Quaffle, feinting left at the last second which made him drop the ball in fear. Demelza quickly snatched it from under him and sped towards their Chaser.

Harry stifled a laugh but sobered the moment his eyes snapped onto the Snitch. Quickly checking for the Hufflepuff Seeker, knowing she’d move as soon as he did, Harry meandered after it for a few seconds. Once he was far enough from her, he leaned forward and his Firebolt took the hint and he jolted forward before speeding off.

Dennis’ commentating grew louder as the crowd excitedly followed Harry across the pitch. The Hufflepuff Seeker spun quickly to try to cut Harry off, but she was on the other end of the pitch. Even her Nimbus Two Thousand and Two couldn’t hold up to the speed of his Firebolt.  
  
The small gold ball flickered above the heads of a group of Slytherins but Harry didn’t see them. He only saw the Snitch. Pulling upwards on his broom, he skid to a stop at the last second, inches away from the Slytherin sitting in front of him. Harry closed his fingers around the cold metal, feeling the wings retreat into the gold edges.

Elation coursed through him, causing him to wink at a familiar silvery head before zooming off around the pitch again, the Snitch held high in the air.  
  
“Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor has won the match!” Dennis’ voice was drowned out by the screams of the Gryffindor crowd. Harry landed amid the two teams, the Hufflepuffs shaking hands and congratulating Harry’s team on their win. Ginny ran up and jumped on Harry, yelling and kissing his cheeks before running off to celebrate. It was only the first win of the season, but it had been the first real game where there was nothing to stop them from only feeling the exhilaration of the game.

Last year, there had been no games to play. Only in his third had Harry played every game and won the House Cup with his team. But the exhilaration of the end of the war combined with the first incredible match had everyone in higher spirits. Even Harry couldn’t deny the happiness he felt at flying again and thinking only of the Snitch.  
  
“Harry!” Hermione yelled, running over to him on the pitch and jumping to hug him, much as Ginny had. “Congratulations!”  
  
“That was a bloody good match, Harry,” Neville said, thumping Harry on the back. Luna smiled at Harry and said, “Quite a catch, Harry.”  
  
“There’s a party in the common room!” Ginny yelled as she ran to the locker room, already pulling her outer robe off. Harry laughed and promised his friends to hurry so he, Hermione, Neville, and Luna could walk back to the castle together.  
  
Harry gave a brief speech in the locker room before telling them all to have fun tonight because they  _won_. He congratulated Hannah on keeping her cool and helping them get their win, giving her a brief pat on her shoulder. She beamed at him and ran all the way back to the castle to owl her parents about the match.

He left the locker room after a quick _Scourgify_ in lieu of a shower, catching up with his friends as they loitered outside. Neville recounted his favorite parts of the game with vivid details, Luna adding in her own comments from time to time. They discussed the match the entire way to the castle, but Harry left them to head to the kitchens, promising to catch up later. He was  _starving_ , and he really wasn’t ready to face the masses.  
  
The warmth of the kitchens warmed Harry against the November chill and he relaxed marginally. The house-elves tripped over themselves to being Harry some warm pumpkin juice. He sat at the table, suddenly exhausted. The party in the common room seemed less and less ideal the longer he sat there. So many people at once and forced interactions with everyone… maybe he’d pretend to fall asleep here and not go. Or better yet, he could go down to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer.  
  
“If you wanted to go on a date, Potter, all you had to do was ask,” Malfoy snarked from the door. Harry startled, unaware he’d been talking out loud. He turned to see Malfoy standing in the open portrait door. His cheeks were red from the chill outside, and he looked more tired than usual.  
  
“I wasn’t intending on company, but if you’d like to join me, I wouldn’t mind,” he said honestly, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice before thanking the house-elves and walking out. Malfoy followed Harry back out of the portrait hole.  
  
“I have to grab my jacket and wallet, so either you can come with me, or you can just wait here. There’s a party in the common room, so someone might notice you hanging around outside,” Harry threw over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs. Malfoy didn’t follow, and Harry felt a weird feeling settling into his chest. 

“ _Haliwinkles_ ,” Harry said to the Fat Lady, who inclined her head as she swung open. Harry walked into the fray of the party, ducking his head to evade notice. Once he’d escaped into his dorm, he grabbed his jacket, wallet, and Invisibility Cloak. The Cloak settled across his shoulders and made his way slowly back towards the portrait hole. Hermione turned her head as Harry slid past her, but she didn’t say a word, she just turned around and continued talking to Seamus and Dean.  
  
While Hogsmeade trips outside of the scheduled ones were forbidden for other students, the eighth years had a little more leeway. This was the first time Harry was using this privilege but he was glad it existed.  
  
He expected the Entrance Hall to be empty, but Malfoy still stood where Harry had left him, looking as if he’d been Confounded. There was a split second where Harry debated going up behind him and whispering “boo.” But they were all still jumpy, Malfoy arguably most of all, so Harry slipped off the Cloak and made his presence known.  
  
“First round’s on me, Malfoy,” he said. He didn’t stop for Malfoy to catch up, he just made his way towards the door. Harry thought Malfoy had stayed in the castle, as he didn’t hear him leave. Malfoy’s voice startled him when they were halfway down the lane.  
  
“Like I need you to buy drinks for me, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, but even he seemed to notice it was weaker than it had been. Harry laughed good-naturedly and pulled up so the two were walking in step together.  
  
“Took you that long to come up with that? I thought you were more creative than that,” Harry ribbed, grinning at Malfoy. He grumbled something back and Harry laughed. Malfoy had often just pissed Harry off, but now they’d agreed to make amends and move forwards, Malfoy was loads of fun to tease. Malfoy didn’t come up with any clever quips on their way into Hogsmeade and Harry led the way into The Three Broomsticks and told him to grab a table while he grabbed the drinks.  
  
“Hello, Harry,” Madam Rosmerta said, smiling at him kindly. “What’ll it be tonight, love?”  
  
“Two pints of butterbeer and two shots of firewhiskey, if you please.” He handed her the coins and she set about pouring their drinks.  
  
“On a date then?” She winked at him but Harry just laughed.  
  
“Meeting up with a mate, Rosmerta,” he said. The word felt weird to say, but it was true. He and Malfoy were mates, at the most. He felt that if he’d said “friend,” Malfoy would have come over to hex Harry before leaving in a dramatic scene. Harry chuckled to himself at the image before bewitching the glasses the float ahead of him.  
  
Malfoy wasn’t hard to find in his black Muggle clothes and silvery blonde hair. Harry quickly joined him, setting the glasses down.  
  
“I got one of each so you can pick your poison,” Harry said as he took a sip of the butterbeer. Malfoy didn’t respond as he quickly downed both shots of firewhiskey before taking a long gulp of the butterbeer. Frowning into his pint, Harry watched Malfoy. An hour stretched into two with Harry and Malfoy sitting together in companionable silence. Five pints of butterbeer later and Harry was ready to go, but Malfoy was still sulking into his seventh butterbeer. Rosmerta had capped them after Malfoy could barely stand to grab the next round of shots of firewhiskey for himself.  
  
“Come on, Malfoy,” Harry muttered as he slid from the booth, extending his hand to Malfoy. “Time to go.” In a rather childish gesture, Malfoy shook his head and refused to move. Sober Harry would have greatly objected to what slightly less sober Harry was about to do, but that was a problem for in the morning. Harry grabbed Malfoy’s arm and gently pulled him from the booth and placed his arm around Harry’s neck, Harry’s arm around Malfoy’s waist. Together, they made slow progress back towards Hogwarts.  
  
“You played well today,” Malfoy mumbled. Harry startled slightly at the words and asked the Slytherin to repeat his words. When he did, Harry was still surprised. _Draco Malfoy complemented his Quidditch playing_.  
  
“It’s about time you recognized how brilliant of a player I am,” Harry said, standing a little taller.  
  
“I’ve always known. S’why I provoked you in fifth year…” Harry laughed, then sighed.  
  
“That was a bloody good catch if I do say so myself.”  
  
“But I got you banned from playing Quidditch for life!” Malfoy said, sounding distressed at the thought. Harry leaned his head back to look at Malfoy and their proximity startled him.  
  
“Yeah, well, that didn’t stop me from playing today did it…” he responded lamely. Malfoy laughed a little before dropping his head again.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind taking a ride around on your broom,” Malfoy said, his word slurring together but Harry had no issue understanding him.  
  
“The amount of times I’ve heard that…” He shook his head, remembering when every girl in the school seemed to want to go out with Local Pariah Harry Potter.  
  
“But I’m your friend, so I can, yeah? I can ride your broomstick?” Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry again and there was childish excitement there, something Harry remembers seeing on Ron’s face when he’d asked to take the Firebolt for a spin. The years of resentment seemed to slack a little at that look on Draco Malfoy’s face and Harry found himself readily agreeing. They lapsed into silence again as they stumbled up the path to the castle and Harry found himself glad for Malfoy’s company.  
  
“I’m glad you don’t hate me, Harry… I think I might hate myself enough for the both of us,” Malfoy said. The cold air seemed to be sobering him up, if only in the slightest.  
  
“After what we’ve been through, there’s no need to hate each other. We were both affected by You-Know-Who and neither of us chose that for ourselves. So… Yeah, I don’t hate you.”  
  
“You don’t say Voldemort anymore.” Harry winced at the mention of his name and all the times he’d scolded Ron for reacting, in the same way, made him immediately sorry.  
  
“It almost killed me twice,” Harry replied brusquely.  
  
“Didn’t Granger once say “Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself”?” Malfoy asked, perfectly imitating Hermione. Harry wanted to laugh at the perfection of his imitation, but talk of Voldemort left him a little cold.  
  
“And she’s right. But even she’d say that fear of his name is just as big as the fear of You-Know-Who himself. He made them that way. He knew what he was doing when he made his name a Taboo…” Harry trailed off, unable to stop his mind from spiraling through the events of that lead up to that night at Hogwarts.  
  
“Really brave…”  
  
“What are you on about now, Malfoy?”  
  
“I said, you were really brave that night… Mum told me she’d spared you because you told her I was safe. That was brave too, but you went out to face Voldemort and no one is ever going to compare to that, Harry. That’s like the bravest thing ever....”  
  
Thankfully they had reached the castle entrance and Harry helped Malfoy through the door before stopping to lean against the wall. 

“Can you get to your dorm okay?” Harry asked, taking a second to catch his breath. Towards the end of their trek, Malfoy had leaned more and more heavily against Harry and though he was wiry, he was not light by any definition of the word.  
  
“Walk with me?” he asked. Before Harry could tell him he’d rather go to bed, Malfoy had grabbed his arm to tug him along the passage that led to the dungeons. Their footsteps echoed along the stone and the lights cast an eerie light. They reached the portrait hiding the entrance to the Slytherin common rooms and Malfoy turned around to look at Harry. They stared at each other for eternity, both at a loss for what to say.  
  
“Thanks for not hating me,” Malfoy said in between a poorly contained laugh. Harry grinned and looked at his ex-enemy and said, “Thanks for not always being an asshole.”  
  
He waited until Malfoy was through the portrait hole before making his way up to Gryffindor Tower. He lit his wand as he walked, careful to keep it away from the sleeping portraits. Malfoy hadn’t been the most talkative of company, but he wasn’t bad to have a drink with. Even if he seemed to drown his problems in firewhiskey. He’d feel that bad decision in the morning, and Harry couldn’t help but gloat a little at that. Their rivalry might be dead, but he could still revel in the little things.  
  
“ _Haliwinkles,_ ” he whispered to the Fat Lady, who gave him a dirty look for disturbing her, but she let him in anyway. With as much stealth as he could manage, Harry slipped into his dorm, collapsing on the bed fully clothed. He drew the curtains around the bed and curled up on top of the covers before passing out.

Sleep came easily for the first time in months.

* * *

After their first, rather awkward time having a pint (and several shots) together, Malfoy seemed to loosen up around Harry much more easily. Of course, they still _weren’t_ friends but it was a step in the right direction, and one Harry had actually enjoyed.

Malfoy sometimes studied with Harry when he was holding office hours in the Room of Requirement.

“Why the Room of Requirement?” Malfoy asked absently one day, twirling his quill in his hand as he edited an essay.

“The library isn’t a good place for practicals, and it’s too cold outside. Plus, they have class in here, so they’re comfortable with the space and therefore more comfortable with their spells.” He shrugged, flicking through progress reports he was getting ready to pass out for his class. Since he never gave them tests or quizzes, but he still wanted them to know where they stood in the class, he needed to come up with _s_ _omething_.

With both of them so focused on their individual tasks, they didn't see Hermione and Ginny poke their heads in.

“Weirdos,” Ginny giggled.

“Hey, it’s better than Harry obsessing over him, let’s be honest. Come on, Ginevra, let’s leave them be.”

* * *

Between Quidditch, teaching, and their own classes, Harry and his mates didn't have a lot of time to study. Any time they did find, they couldn’t focus anywhere in the castle. But being an eighth year had its perks. Hogsmeade visits were just one, but they were the  _best_. He and the others often went down to the little village once classes were finished, so they could study away from the sometimes stifling air of Hogwarts. With most of them being a professor of at least one Defense class, their students pestered them almost constantly.

Which is why Harry was running late to meet his friends after class. He and Malfoy had been enjoying a snack in the kitchen when Harry had remembered the time. Malfoy made some mention of maybe seeing him at Hogsmeade later anyway and they parted ways. As he left the kitchens, one of his students had stopped to ask him for help and… Well, he couldn’t tell her no. He’d spent thirty minutes helping her with her wand movements before sprinting out of Hogwarts and down the front walk.

He slowed his pace as he reached the far end of Hogsmeade to admire the murals that had been painted on the long wall following his path into Hogsmeade. The familiar faces and words on it brought him a small measure of comfort, and he smiled. But as he reached the end of it, he noticed an interesting new addition with a familiar blond standing in front of it.

“Malfoy?” Harry called out, slowing his pace. “You alright?” He could see Malfoy’s body tense in surprise at the voice, but he didn't move. Frowning, Harry slowed his pace, giving Malfoy time to adjust to his approaching presence.

“Malfoy?” Harry said again, quieter, as he moved closer to him. “What’s going on?”

Instead of responding, Malfoy just nodded at the mural standing in front of him. It was a mural Harry remembered someone telling him Luna had done a few weeks ago. In typical Luna fashion, she had gotten to the heart of most survivor’s fears and poignantly reassured them. A large black and green cloud grew off to the left of the mural, but the familiar wands at the bottom cast a collective Lumos and forced the cloud back. Harry watched it repeat a few times before he noticed the black-outlined blue words surrounding the right edge.

_You are safe now._

As Harry turned to comment on it, he noticed the tears running down Malfoy’s face.

“Sometimes I forget,” he whispered when Harry couldn’t find anything to say. “I forget he’s not here anymore, he’s never coming back, that I _am_ safe now… I spent no time at the manor this summer… And everyone here makes it difficult to feel safe because they view me as _enemy_ , too.” Malfoy swallowed hard, closing his eyes as more tears flowed down his cheeks.

“Me too,” is all Harry said. He ended up not going to the Three Broomsticks that night. Instead, he and Malfoy went to The Hog’s Head Inn and had a pint, talking in hushed voices about anything and everything like old friends. With his friends, he felt like he had to be fine all the time. Being open with Malfoy was… easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is,,,,longer than i expected. still not like great lengths or anything, just 3.5k (HELLO GUESS WHAT ITS NOW 4.9k!!!!), but still,,, thats a lot of information.
> 
> leave a comment and a kudos for quidditch! (i read so much about the game to write the first part) ((to help write it and edit it as of 12/28/18, i rewatched all quidditch matches and got fucking GOOSEBUMPS watching the beginning of the world cup)


	6. broody potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as of 1/3/19 this has been updated!!

After the Quidditch match, people became a little more insufferable. Everyone wanted to talk about the match or fawn over Harry’s amazing Seeker skills or whatever they’ve deemed important enough to bother him with  _ constantly _ . To avoid them, Harry woke up earlier, ate earlier, then receded to the library to pretend to study before class. Mostly he flicked through Quidditch magazines, trying to pass the time.   
  
On his way to the library early one morning, he ran into Ginny. She smiled at him and leaned in for a hug. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around her, squeezing her close to him. He didn't realize how much he needed a hug until just then, and it was several long minutes before they separated.

“I’m going to the library, do you want to come with me?” he asked. He hadn’t stopped to talk to Ginny for a while and he missed her.   
  
“Yeah… Yeah, let’s go.” Her smile widened, and she fell into step with him as they silently moved through the morning light filling the corridors. It felt natural to walk next to Ginny and not think about what he was doing next.   
  
“How are you?” Ginny asked quietly, not wanting to disrupt the calm of the early morning. A few paintings murmured greetings as they passed them, but there was little noise in the castle outside of that.   
  
He hesitated to answer. How was he? He usually just said “fine” because that’s what people expected. “I’m okay,” he said honestly after a moment’s pause. There weren’t enough words for him to fully express his feelings, but Ginny understood him without any extra stumbling. She just nodded and said, “Good.”

Comfortable silence swallowed them as they entered the dim library. The warm darkness was more comforting than stifling, and Harry welcomed it. They made their way over to the large tables pushed together that the eighth years had commandeered at the beginning of the year. Harry sat with his back to the corner of the stacks, and Ginny sat across from him. Without a word, she pulled out her Potions textbook and started taking notes. Harry knew he should work, but couldn’t bring himself to do more than doodle in his notebook.

It wasn’t long after the two had settled into their tasks that Ginny shut her book and looked at Harry across the table. There were several seconds where Harry didn't notice he was being looked at. Ginny kicked his shin lightly when she finally got impatient.

“Hey!” Harry scowled at her before sitting back in his chair again. “What’s up, Ginny?”   
  
“Can we talk about something for a sec?” Her tone was serious, which was unsettling. Harry frowned, but he nodded, shoving his magazine to the side so they could talk uninterrupted.   
  
“I… I know the war was hard on us both, and I know that our relationship has taken a back burner to….Well, to everything.” Ginny, so confident in every she did, was stuttering to talk to Harry. He remembered when they were younger, were actual children, and how she had stumbled then too. “But I--”

At the risk of his health, Harry interrupted. “Ginny, I think I know what you’re going to say.”   
  
“Am I that obvious?” For the first time in her life, Ginny sounded sheepish.

“Yeah, I think I know what you’re talking about… Things have been  _ hard  _ since the War ended   
“But you’re okay with it?” she insisted, leaning forward slightly. The sheepishness was gone, replaced with an intensity that was all Ginny Weasley.   
  
“I think we both need to figure out what the hell it is we want. The war… It didn’t give us much time to explore what we had and now--” Harry stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to voice exactly what he thought. He’s seen Ginny’s hexing abilities before and he refused to be on the receiving end of one.   
  
“And now it feels forced,” she said as if she’s read his thoughts. Harry hesitated to nod, still a little afraid of being hexed, but he did so slowly.   
  
“I’ll always care for you, Ginny. Before you were my girlfriend, you were my best friend’s sister and that means a lot to me,” he told her sincerely. “Just don’t spend too much time nursing your broken heart.”

“Oh, I’ll be crying into my pillow every night for the rest of my life at losing The Chosen One.”   
  
“How  _ will  _ you go on?” he asked in a hushed, dramatic whisper. Ginny’s narrowed in the way Weasley twins’ did before they caused mischief.   
  
“I’ll figure something out,” she said flippantly. And like that, they were back to normal, joking and teasing, pretending to study while they traded gossip instead.   
  
“So, I heard you went to Hogsmeade with Malfoy the other night,” Ginny said in an off-hand manner as she scanned her Charms essay for mistakes.   
  
“I went to Hogsmeade, Draco tagged along,” Harry said in a defensive tone. Ginny made a sarcastic “mhmm” before crossing out a word sharply. “I decided to move past him being a prat when we were younger. He has changed since the end of the war, you know.”   
  
“I think we all have.” Ginny’s tone darkened a little but it was almost completely wiped out by the mischievous smirk on her face.   
  
“I don’t want to know what you’re thinking, Ginevra. I have a class to get to,” he said, laughing as he looked at his watch. He packed up his “studying materials” and shoved them carelessly into his bag before heading towards the door.   
  
“You’ll know what I’m thinking soon enough!” she called after him, earning her a dark look and the boot from the library from Madam Pince.   


* * *

Harry found himself in Firenze’s classroom at lunch, avoiding people still. He had a packed lunch from the house elves, who knew Harry hadn’t been eating. Winky had made an appearance in the Defense office right before lunchtime as Harry readied his lesson plans for after lunch. She had been fierce in her own way when she insisted he take the lunch the house elves had made, and Harry couldn’t refuse them. So he took the brown paper sack and walked the short distance to Firenze’s forested indoor classroom. The cool light and warm breeze that came from nowhere made Harry feel safe, something the stones of Hogwarts rarely did anymore.   
  
“Harry Potter,” Firenze said with a bow of his head. Harry startled, looking up at the centaur who seemed to appear from nowhere.   
  
“Firenze,” Harry said as he inclined his head back, a sheepish grin on his face. Firenze returned the smile with a mysterious one of his own.   
  
“Is it alright to eat in here?” Harry held up the sack lunch in his hands but quickly put it down, feeling kind of silly.    
  
“Escaping the public again?” Firenze asked; there was no judgment in his tone, which was soft and gentle like the air around them. Firenze had been more than willing to offer the safety of his classroom to any student who felt they needed it. He was also willing to listen and offer advice to the students that would listen.   
  
“As always,” he said with a sheepish grin. Harry dropped the grin and sighed, staring at his feet. “As always…”

“Feel free to use this space as a refuge, young Potter. It is mine, and I willingly share it with any who need it.” When Harry didn't say anything more, Firenze disappeared into his classroom, leaving him alone. He sat on a fallen tree stump and pulled the wrapped pies from the bag. The dim green light was comforting, even though by all conventions, the dim light and cool air of the forest should strike fear into his heart. But instead, he felt comforted by everything there.

Lunch came and went and all too soon, and then it was time for Defense. The fourth years were making steady progress in the Room of Requirement, and Harry felt they were finally ready to advance to offensive charms. Madam Pomfrey did not approve, but she sat in the classroom while Harry walked the students through proper dueling techniques. Healing charms were not Harry’s strong suit.

Class finished with few injuries, which made Harry happy. But once the class had left the Room, Harry found himself wandering the halls to find something to occupy himself with. Quidditch practice wasn’t until tomorrow, dinner was still hours away, his classes were finished for the day, and he really couldn’t make himself settle enough to do homework.

He took the Map out of his pockets, trying to find somewhere there weren’t a lot of people. He walked through as many hallways as he could stand before finding himself in the owlery. Unsure as to why he was there, Harry fed some treats to the owls who would come to him, but his heart ached for the familiar white of Hedwig. Harry leaned against the stone arch window, staring out at the frosty grounds. An owl fluttered to stand on Harry’s shoulders, cooing softly for another treat. Caught up in his own head, Harry absently fed the owl more treats. Being caught in his own head, and the cooing of the owl on his shoulder, he didn't notice another person had entered the owlery until he heard a familiar sneer.

“I see Charon has taken a liking to you,” Draco said with a dirty look lacking its typical malice.

“You think?” Harry raised an eyebrow, looking between Draco and Charon. Draco shrugged, stepping forward and calling Charon to him. The large owl dug into Harry’s shoulder before flapping the short distance to Draco’s arm.

“What are you up here brooding about, Potter?” Draco asked as he tied a piece of parchment to the owl’s leg before taking her over to the window to let her deliver his message.

“I--I was not brooding!” Harry spluttered, looking indignantly at Draco.

“Yeah, I also just casually stare out at the grounds with a stormy expression on my face and a black owl named after the Underworld’s ferryman on my shoulder,” Draco said as he turned around. Harry went after him, still offended he’d called him  _ brooding _ . Harry had been called a lot of things by people in his life but brooding was not one of them.

“I do not--!”

“Do you not remember fifth year? Merlin’s beard, you were so broody even I had a hard time making you even more miserable,” Draco scoffed and Harry rolled his eyes, knowing Draco was picking on Harry just to pick on him.

“Having nightmares about the Dark Lord’s every move while having a psychopathic teacher who makes you carve  _ I must not tell lies _ into your hand on a regular basis and absolutely no support system makes for a... _ brooding _ atmosphere, if you must.” Harry went to stalk past Draco, a little angry now that Draco had brought up the downhill slide that was fifth year and on.

“Hey…” Draco caught Harry’s arm and gently tugged him to a stop. His sneer was gone and a gentle tone Harry had never heard replaced it. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m...not used to friendships, not especially with someone I bullied through school. I was just teasing you. I’m sorry if it was a little bit too on point.”

“There’s still a lot between us,” Harry sighed, relaxing as Draco apologized. “It’s not easy to navigate, but thank you for apologizing.” 

He gave the Slytherin a small smile before gently extracting his arm from Draco’s grip. Together, they turned towards the Great Hall. The silence was awkward, but as they neared the Great Hall, Draco’s smirk returned and his confidence with it. He pushed the doors open ahead of Harry, barely remembering to catch it before it bowled Harry over onto his ass. Harry gave Draco an arch look before making his way to where his friends sat. Draco walked with him, saying loudly as he passed, “Granger, do you think Harry is brooding?”

“Sometimes,” she said with the absent tone she uses when she’s doing school work. Draco’s laughter followed him to his table and Harry watched him go, before sitting down slowly. Luna and Neville shared a look while Harry watched his once enemy walk across the room, smiles on their faces.

“What?” he asked as he turned around, already piling food onto his plate.

“Nothing, Harry,” Neville said. Immediately, he launched into a story about Herbology and his Defense classes. The whole table let Harry pretend he was sneaking glances at Draco when he thought no one was watching.

Draco caught Harry’s eye halfway through dinner, and Harry turned around quickly, his cheeks flushing darkly.

“Something interesting, Potter?” Ginny asked as she plopped next to him, shoving him over with a sharp hit from her hips. He winced but bumped her back just as hard. Hermione raised an eyebrow at the two of them but let it go when Ginny fixed her with a sharp grin.

“Nothing that’d be interesting to you, Weasley,” he said, giving her a dark look. He still didn’t know whatever it was she thinking, and he really didn’t want it publicly outed at dinner.

“I beg to differ,” she said with a shrug before drawing Luna into a conversation about Quidditch that quickly drew several other people in. Dinner flew by and the Quidditch talk distracted Harry long enough to forget whatever it was he was thinking about Draco, and the silver haired Slytherin had disappeared from the Great Hall by the time Harry looked for him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a really shitty place to end, but i could go on forever about them talking and dancing around each other. this doesnt have a central plot at all.
> 
> as always, leave kudos and comments!!
> 
> next is PROBABLY christmas
> 
> 1/3/19: so far, i've add 3601 words!! this is currently like,,, 10k longer than my seven yr old novel.


	7. harry and draco sitting in a tree...

Things with Ginny had been really good since they’d broken up. They still sat together at meals and joked just as easily as they had before. But the pressure to always be close and  _a couple_ was gone. Harry felt immensely lighter. Ginny had taken to dating others, but she was showing particular interest in a Ravenclaw Chaser.

“Hey, Ginny,” Harry said as the Weasley plopped down next to him at lunch.

“What do you want, Potter?” she said with a grin. Her eyes were still locked on the Chaser as she made her way towards her friends. Harry nudged her with his elbow as he took a long drink of his pumpkin juice.

“Weasley,” he said again; this time she turned around and looked at him, her grin still wide on her face.

“Don’t let your new Chaser girlfriend cost us our next game, Ginevra,” he said with a smirk. The blow to his arm made him choke on his pumpkin juice, causing Seamus and Dean to roar with laughter. Hermione gave them an admonishing look as Harry cleaned up the spill with a flick of his wand.

“I’ll have you know, Harry James Potter, that as much as I love girls, I love Quidditch _much_ more. I’d _never_ let a girl cost me a match.” The table started laughing again as Ginny looked at them with a faint blush on her cheeks.

“Well, as long as we have that straight,” Harry said through peals of laughter.

“I think the whole point is that she isn’t straight,” Dean said, collapsing into Seamus’ side, gripping his stomach.

“Hey, I don’t give you shit for not being straight, Dean Thomas!” Ginny said, throwing a dinner roll at him that he missed with the dexterity of a Chaser; even Hermione was hiding her laughter behind her copy of the Daily Prophet. Several moments were passed with slowly dying laughter until Hermione excused herself, still pink-cheeked, to head towards class.

“And I suggest you do the same,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked towards the door. Eventually, the rest of them stood up and left, leaving only Harry and Ginny behind. Shoving one last bite of lunch in his mouth, Harry stood.

“Ready for Potions?” he said, rearranging his bag as Ginny finished eating. She shrugged and stood, brushing crumbs from her fingers, her bag thrown over her shoulder.

“You’re okay with me going out with this girl?” Ginny asked as they descended the stairs towards the dungeon classroom.

“Of course I am, Ginny. We broke up, I don’t expect you to mourn me or anything,” Harry told her. “But I’m serious, if she comes in between us and the Quidditch Cup, I’m telling your mum what you did when you were a fourth year.”

“You wouldn’t!” she gasped, looking actually horrified at the prospect. Harry nodded with a solemn smirk, enjoying her worry a little.

“I so would, Ginevra.” Her response died on her lips as Slughorn hushed the class and started his lecture. Ginny glared at Harry through the entire class and Harry just kept smirking.

Class ended and Harry left for his free period to see Hagrid, and maybe wander around the forest for a while. Ginny caught up with her girlfriend on the stairs near Gryffindor Tower and Harry laughed as he walked past. The walk down towards Hagrid’s cabin was quiet and blustery and Harry reveled in the stinging wind on his cheeks. The silence was broken by a faint voice calling out, but no one was ever on this part of the grounds willingly. When he heard it again, however, he turned around to see what was wrong, his heart leaping into his throat. Years of hearing names called only to never get a response, of hearing screams and frightened yells made him jumpy.

“Merlin’s pants, Potter, I’ve been calling your name since you left the bloody castle. Are you deaf?” Draco said as he came to stand in front of Harry, breathing a little heavily.

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly as he stowed his wand. “I was stuck in my head.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Silence stretched between them and Harry itched to get to Hagrid’s. They hadn’t seen each other much and Harry missed the half-giant’s cozy cabin. Hoping that if he started walking, Draco might get the hint and leave, Harry started back down the hill towards the smoke billowing from Hagrid’s hut. Unfortunately, Draco seemed excessively chatty and followed Harry.

“Has Professor Binns talked about the War yet?” he asked awkwardly.

“I don’t think he even knew what was going on during the War,” Harry said with a snort. “He probably went to class like usual and droned on about goblin wars until the Death Eaters died from boredom.”

Harry was surprised to hear Draco laugh at the thought, and he smiled in return.

“He did his best,” Draco defended through giggles. Harry stared at him, unable to believe Draco Malfoy could laugh in a noncruel way. Talk of classes carried them to Hagrid’s hut, where he stood outside waiting with Fang at his heel and a sack of meat for the thestrals over his shoulder.

Hagrid threw an odd look at a pink-faced Draco standing next to Harry, but only shook his head at the pair and the three of them and Fang made their way into the forest.

“You aren’t...afraid to go in here?” Draco asked, subtly shifting closer to Harry.

“Why would I?” he asked with his hands deep in his pockets against the chill. Even in the dark dampness of the forest, Harry felt his shoulders relax and his breathing became a little easier.

“Because of all the bloody madness that has happened in here,” Draco said as if it should be obvious. “Especially what happened in May…” They both shuddered at the memory, but Harry quickly changed the subject.

“Yeah, I could see how some people would turn against that. But it’s not the forest’s fault. The centaurs have stopped threatening Hagrid and other humans, so he’s returned to his work and I occasionally help him.” He shrugged and looked over at Draco to see his reaction. “I also really like the thestrals.”

As if on cue, Draco wrinkled his nose and snorted.

“You sound like Hagrid,” he said in a snotty voice. Harry laughed and Hagrid turned around to look at them, thoroughly disturbed at their friendly nature. They came to a stop and Harry immediately went for the bag to feed the thestrals. Hagrid walked with Fang towards the few that were gathered around the edge of the clearing and Harry headed towards the mares and foals, a small smile on his face. One of the newest foals, named Aurora by Harry, came running over to sniff at the bag in his hands.

“Hagrid says he wants another dragon,” Harry said conversationally. He tossed a strip of meat to Aurora, who was prancing around Harry. “And I think McGonagall might just give in because he’s going to get one anyway, and this way she can control it.”

Draco gaped at the Gryffindor as he walked through the small herd, petting and talking to them, tossing strips of meat here and there.

“I don’t… I don’t even… This is….” Draco stuttered, still shaking his head.

“That’s how I feel,” Harry said as he returned to Draco’s side, Aurora trotting beside him. Draco watched the small thestral prance around Harry and still jumped when she nosed at his hand.

“It’s okay, they aren’t as temperamental as hippogriffs. Just rub her nose. She’ll get bored in a minute and run off.” Draco hesitantly touched the skeletal face of the baby as she made an odd noise between a chirp and a whinny. Her feet danced out a happy rhythm as Draco slowly pet her face, and just as Harry had said, she turned and continued her excited dance around the older thestrals.

“Why do you spend so much time out here?” Draco asked as he turned to look at Harry. He shrugged, staring off at the thestrals.

“It’s hard to walk through the halls with people whispering. It used to be they were talking shit behind my back, always some rumor or another spread by the Prophet or someone else. Now they’re in awe of who I am and always whisper about how much of a hero I am. You think I must love it, but honestly I’d trade places with anyone in the world if it meant people would quit talking about me, even for a minute,” Harry rambled. Draco didn’t respond, and really, what could he say? Harry knew he was talking about more than Draco probably cared to hear about but he _did_ ask.

“I don’t know about you, Potter, but I’m bloody freezing. Are you done being Hagrid’s mini-me?” Draco huffed, rubbing his hands together before shoving them back into his pockets.

The walk back up to the castle was just as silent as the rest of their time in the forest, but it was comforting and Harry enjoyed it. Once they reached the Entrance Hall, they stood awkwardly for a minute.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Draco asked, poised to turn. Harry nodded and started up the stairs, a small smile on his face. As he climbed the stairs, he tried to figure out what he and Draco could do next. Maybe go out to Hogsmeade for lunch with Hermione, Neville, Luna, and Ginny?

When Harry walked through the portrait hole, it was to see Ginny standing on a table with several younger children standing around her.

“And I was in the hallway with Luna and Demelza and Neville--remember, this was before the Toad took over--and Neville was recounting his first Potions lesson after Demelza and I’d had a horrible day.” She took a deep breath and drew herself up. Her cloak fluttered around her and when she spoke, her voice low drone of the late Professor Snape. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…

“But of course, I couldn’t let it go! Hermione had shown me this Muggle cooking show when we went shopping the year before and this guy is just hilarious! Anyway, I stopped in the middle of the hallway and in my best impression of Snape said ‘I can teach you how to flambé success, bake brilliance, even SAUTÉ EXCELLENCE!’”

The whole common room exploded into laughter. Ginny grinned, waiting for the laughter to subside into a few giggles before continuing.

“Now, my good friends were too busy rolling on the floor with laughter to kindly tell me none other than Professor Snape was standing behind me! I got detention for a month, but it was worth it,” she said with a smirk even the twins would have been wary of.

“During the war, people used it as a way to undermine Snape,” Seamus piped up. “They would mutter it during detentions with him, or when he walked past groups of Dumbledore’s Army. Of course, it earned us all detentions for a little while, but it was worth it to see the look on his face.”

“Jokes on him,” Harry said from the back of the room. “I didn’t need to know how to bottle fame, brew glory, OR stopper death. I did all of that by just existing.”

Ginny laughed, throwing her head back, but Hermione looked at him with a concerned expression. Harry ignored it, wading through the people to stand near his friends. He helped Ginny down from the table and Hermione shooed the younger kids off to bed, reminding them it still was a school night. Once they were all gone, the veterans settled onto the furniture and cracked open books and unrolled parchment.

“Did you really get a month’s detention for that?” Harry asked as he reviewed his Defense class’ essays.

“That and so much more,” she admitted. Dean snorted and she threw a paper wad back at him. This commenced a paper war that ended in a large pile of wasted parchment being tossed into the dying fire. Giggles subsided and chatter died out as they each focused on their work. Most of them had their own homework to do as well as grade Defense essays and quizzes. The night dragged on and slowly, everyone went to bed until only Harry, Hermione and Ginny were left.

“I heard you went out with Draco today,” Ginny said nonchalantly. Hermione looked up sharply from her work, sputtering out questions.

“He followed me down to Hagrid’s and then wouldn’t leave me alone. I would hardly call it going out,” he defended, not looking up from his essay.

“And what did you guys do?” Hermione asked.

“Well, I fed the thestrals and Draco met Aurora and we talked. Then we walked back home and went to our dorms and I came to hang out with you losers,” he said, looking up finally.

“Sounds very...domestic,” Ginny said with a smirk. Harry kicked out at her shin, which Ginny expertly dodged. “Wait until I tell Ron.” Her laugh was bordering on maniacal and Harry felt his heart drop.

“Th-there’s nothing to tell Ron,” he hissed at her. Ginny had rarely given him the little sister treatment she gave Ron, and if this is what it was like to have a little sister…. Harry would gladly go back to being an only child.

“Oh really?” Ginny pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and began writing. “Dear Ronald, I have the best news! Your best mate, Harry Potter, has suddenly become all chummy with Draco Malfoy. Oh yes, they’ve been down to the Three Broomsticks, walking into dinner, and spending time down at Hagrid’s together! I suspect--”

She was cut off mid-sentence by Harry lunging out of his chair to rip the paper out of Ginny’s hand. She squealed and tried to scramble away from him, cackling as they fell to the floor. Harry ripped it from her hands and pinned her down before tossing the parchment in the fire. In his brief distraction, Ginny flipped him and tossed him to the side. She jumped up and flopped onto the couch next to Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

“It’s like Ron never left,” she mumbled, packing away her school things. Hermione stretched and yawned, looking down at Ginny.

“Hey, I’m smarter and funnier than Ron, and you know it,” Ginny retorted. She also packed her things to leave the common room. She knew Hermione hated when she came to their dorm room later in the night. They were all a little light of sleepers anymore.

“A lot stronger too,” Harry grumbled as he stood, rubbing his head where it had hit the floor. He bid them goodnight, watching as they walked up to the girls’ dormitory. Finally alone, he settled into the large armchair in front of the fire. He thought about what Ginny said about Draco. Maybe he should talk to Ron… He wasn’t trying to replace his best mate, but Ron was helping his family and Harry was… Well, Harry had no idea what he was doing, but he supported Ron fully in what he was doing. Draco and Harry just seemed to gravitate towards each other. Draco didn’t require a lot of energy, he didn’t expect Harry to be fine. He didn’t expect anything from Harry. And that was...nice, not having to pretend to be fine, to always be happy and joking and laughing. It was nice to be able to simply exist next to someone and know they understand what he’s feeling.

Everyone else seemed to move on. Hermione was back to her studies like not much had happened. Ginny was stronger, bolder, but she had been well on her way to that personality long before the War. Seamus and Dean were back to causing vague mischief and being very much in love like they hadn’t spent a year apart. Luna was still Luna. Neville was the only one who had the same quiet, somber attitude Harry had. But he laughed and joked and made friends. Harry skulked around the castle.

People expected him to be okay. To be normal. But what was normal? He’d spent seven years of his life fighting You-Know-Who, always uncovering some plot or another relating to him. Normal wasn’t easy for him. The entire Wizarding World had made sure he was as far from normal as possible.

But Draco understood. That was bizarre in and of itself, but Harry was finding he didn’t mind. He really didn’t mind...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://bext-k.tumblr.com/post/167508146457/hogwarts-memes this is the link for the "bottle fame" idea and pls reblog it bc its an amazing piece of art and has many great ideas


	8. k-i-s-s-i-n-g

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! it's been a while!! between final exams, going home and working over christmas, and rushing for a sorority like a week after i got back to school, i've been a little busy!! also, this chapter is a fucking monster for me. it's like 3.6, almost 3.7k and it took for fucking ever to figure out HOW i was going to get to the end of the chapter and kinda what i wanted to happen.
> 
> thanks to the person who commented saying i'd accidentally published the unfinished first part of this chapter!! i think i'd tried to save the chapter and i was really tried and i don't really remember doing it, but it sounds like me!!
> 
> a few things: towards the end of the chapter there are A LOT of italics. like. A L O T. this kinda ended up more draco POV??? so it makes sense bc he's a little (a lot) dramatic. i also forgot it was still technically the 90s and as such, harry's fashion sense should match accordingly
> 
> sorry for the long notes! i hope you enjoy this chapter bc its one of my favourites!!

“Does your mum want to host, or do you want me to?” Harry asked as they made their way to an empty compartment on the train.

“I’m not sure… I’ll ask once I get home and then I’ll owl you.”

Harry accepted that for now, wondering how many people would be there in his new house. The holidays were bound to be hectic. It was the first Christmas since the war and losses were felt more keenly than most days. Mrs. Weasley may be thankful for the distraction, or for the ability to mourn those she lost without worrying about having Christmas.

The compartment filled with Harry’s friends, all of them chatting softly about holidays with promises to drop by. By the time the sun was high in the sky, most of them were fast asleep. Harry, restless, stood and quietly walked from the compartment. He didn’t have a destination, he just needed to move. As he moved along the narrow hallways, stopping to have brief conversations with some of the others on board. When Dennis Creevey left, Harry started to head back to his compartment. But as he turned, he caught sight of a silvery blonde head. Draco was sitting in a compartment all by himself, occupied by a book in his hands. Harry smiled and slid the door open.

“Excuse me, do you mind?” Harry asked, gesturing to the seat across from Draco. “Everywhere else is full.” Draco gave a short laugh but nodded, stowing his book away.

“I refuse to believe every compartment is full to Harry Freakin’ Potter.”

Harry didn’t say anything and the silence turned stale between them. Looking for anything to do, Draco stared out the window and Harry stared at Draco.

Harry debated what he was going to talk about when he blurted, “Come over for Christmas.” The two of them stared at each other, shocked. But Harry wasn’t going to try and cover up what he said, or make excuses. He really did want Draco over for Christmas.

“I know your family isn’t… the greatest right now. So I want you to know that you can come stay at Grimmauld Place for the holidays if you want.”

When Draco still didn’t respond, Harry stood awkwardly to leave. Maybe he and Draco weren’t friends like he’d thought. Maybe they were just thrown together by circumstance and now they wouldn’t have to talk to each other. They used to hate each other so this was familiar territory.

So why did the thought hurt so much?

* * *

The train pulled into the station under bright midday sunlight. Students streamed from the train, collecting cases and friends as they went. Harry and his friends were the last off, wanting to avoid attention.

Draco waited until almost everyone was gone, wanting to speak to Harry about his offer. He quickly grew disheartened as the station cleared of witches and wizards and he had yet to catch sight of the Boy Who Lived.

The train pulled out of the station, and Draco turned to leave. It was hopeless to begin with. Harry was just looking for something to say and he said the first thing that came to his mind. Why would he want--

“Harry, help me with this…” Granger said from one end of the station. Draco spun around to see Harry pulling Granger’s trunk from the rest of the group’s. With promises to see them at Christmas, she Disapparated. One by one, Harry’s friends Disapparated. Harry smiled and headed towards the exit.

“Draco!” he said in surprise when he caught up to the Slytherin, who’d stood stock still, unsure of what to do. “Hey, about staying at Christmas--”

“Would you mind?” Draco asked in a small voice. He wasn’t used to asking politely and he was imposing on Harry…

“Not at all! Come on, we’ll walk. It’s not too far, actually…” And so off they went.

The walk was short and filled with prattle from Harry. Evidently, they were hosting Christmas this year. It was his first Christmas not at the Weasley’s and he wasn’t sure what to do about sleeping arrangements. It went on until they reached the stoop. He muttered a few words and unlocked the door with a key. They walked in, Harry calling out “Teddy, Andi, I’m home!” before dropping his trunk by the door.

“Harry, don’t, you’ll--!” Draco whispered, his eyes darting to the...non-existent portrait of Mrs. Black. “What?”

“Oh, _her_. Hermione, Andi, and I got rid of her this summer. Thankfully… Teddy’s fits were getting louder and longer, and so she would throw a fit and it was...a busy summer.” Harry swallowed and stared past the empty space on the wall. In the blink of an eye, he was smiling again, ushering Draco through the hall to the main living room.

“This looks different…” Draco commented. He’d only been there once before when he was younger, but he remembered it being much more cloying and dark. But it was light and spacious and it felt like a home. Maybe that was all the kids’ toys scattered about, or the worn couch, or the warm fire. Whatever it was, Draco loved it.

“Harry!” Andi came down with a small blue haired boy in her arms. Harry grinned and took Teddy from her, kissing all over his face. Draco watched him, awkwardly standing in the doorway as the happy family reunited. Andi turned around, telling Harry she’d see what she could get together for tea. The shock was easy to read on her face, and Draco shrunk further into himself.

“Draco!” she said finally, a wide smile spreading across her face. “I’m glad you came, dear.” Before he could issue the proper thanks, he was pulled into a tight hug.

“You’re always welcome, Draco,” Andi whispered into his ear and Draco wrapped his arms around her tightly. She pulled away after a long moment, smiling brightly at him, promising something good for tea. Then she bustled her way into the kitchen, where Draco heard Kreacher ask what it is that was needed.

“Draco, meet Teddy Tonks Lupin,” Harry said, moving closer to Draco. The baby laughed and a spit bubble blew up. It popped and Teddy laughed more. Curiously, Teddy leaned towards Draco, making grabby hands like he wanted to be held.

“Is it okay if I hold him?” Draco asked tentatively. He looked so...fragile… but if Draco remembered anything about Tonks, then he knew this boy would be a little more resilient.

“Of course! He’s not temperamental.” And that was all Harry said before handing over the small child who was gnawing on his own fist. Draco smiled, entirely enchanted with this tiny, slobbering mess. Andi walked in with a tea tray laden with snacks, another one floating behind her with the teapot and other paraphernalia behind her.

“I’m glad you two are getting acquainted,” she said with a smile as the two trays settled onto the coffee table. Draco placed the small child on the floor as he sat on the couch next to Harry.

Mindless chatter filled the time between tea and dinner, stories of Teddy’s antics, of rebuilding and renovating Grimmauld Place, and of Hogwarts days past making them laugh until their sides hurt. Harry launched into a story about how the boggart one of the upstairs rooms had turned into McGonagall telling Harry he was a failure as a wizard because he’d be unable to finish his time at Hogwarts.

“And all I did was laugh! After all I’ve done for the wizarding world, and they’d fail me out of Hogwarts because of a mess they couldn’t clean up....” He laughed again, throwing his head back. “As if!”

Before long, Kreacher was informing them dinner was served. Harry picked up Teddy from the pile of blocks surrounding him and carted him into the dining room. Everyone settled around the table and the chatter picked up almost seamlessly. Draco didn’t say much, surprised by how much he missed out on because of the way his family was.

Draco walked into the kitchen after dinner, surprised to see Harry washing dishes by hand.

“Isn’t there a spell for that?” Draco asked from the doorway.

“Well… Yeah. But, I was raised as a muggle and did dishes often because of my aunt and uncle. Even though they forced me to do chores and things, there’s something cathartic about doing something for yourself, like Muggles do. It’s so much better than doing it with your wand.” He smiled at Draco, who nodded only half knowingly. Things were always done _for_ him and by magic, so there was no reason to learn how the muggles did anything.

“I never thought about it like that,” he said honestly. The conversation came to a close and Draco watched Harry for a few minutes, reveling in the quiet clatter of the dishes and Harry’s even breathing.

“Want to help?” Harry asked after the quiet slipped into uncomfortable territory. “I can wash and you can dry.”

Draco met Harry’s eyes before looking down at the green tea towel. He smiled as he stepped forward to take it, accepting a plate as he did. They worked like this until Harry was draining the sink and snapping off the kitchen gloves.

“You want some tea?” Harry asked, unsure of what to do from here. Yes, they just did dishes, but what else was to be done with a guest in the house?

“Actually, I’d love to see the rest of the house. Andi was talking about it before I came in here, she said you worked all summer to make it _livable_.” Harry laughed at the understatement but nodded and lead Draco from the kitchen.

“We did an expanding charm in the dining room so it’ll expand to fit as many people as possible. It’ll come really in handy for Christmas Dinner. And the paint…” Harry started in on the little details he painstakingly worked to ensure existed and Draco found himself actually enjoying the tour. Harry recounted stories of Teddy messing with the renovations, or when silly accidents would happen. They finally ended up at the base of the stairs to an attic.

“I’m not sure what to do with this, though… It’s got space enough that Andi says I should make it a loft and let someone rent it.” He shrugged off the idea, turning to head back down the stairs. Probably to make tea.

Draco stared at the stairs before cautiously walking up them. The smell of dust met him, and he sneezed. The dust swirled around him more, before settling. A quick _Lumos_ gave Draco the ability to see the furniture in front of him, making it easier to see the kind of space.

There was a large main room, big enough for a couch and maybe a chair, a TV, and a desk. There was a smaller room just off to the side that could be a small kitchen, a bathroom, and the largest room could be a bedroom… _Maybe all he needs is a little help_ , Draco thought to himself. He’d never done things...the Muggle Way...before, but if it gave him a place to live during holidays and until he could get his own place, he’d do it.

Draco made his way back downstairs, anxious to see how Harry would react to his offer.

* * *

The days leading up to Christmas were hectic. Andi, Harry, and Draco all took turns minding Teddy while the rest did the holiday shopping. The attic was being turned into an apartment for Draco, which took up any of Harry and Draco’s free time. The walls had been cleaned and painted a lovely mint green.

( _“Of course you’d pick green,” Harry had said._

_“And just what is that supposed to mean **Potter** ?” Draco had said with offense. _

_“Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin,” he had laughed with a cheeky grin._ )

Teddy, however, was becoming more a nuisance. He had finally learned to crawl and was now doing so at hyper speed.

“Teddy Remus Lupin-Tonks, you give that back right now!” Draco yelled, running after the giggling toddler who’d snatched a pair of his underwear after toppling over a box of clothes. Teddy had pulled them onto his head because he liked the colors and texture of the silk boxers. The toddler was now scuttling around the first floor, having a blast with Draco’s pants on his head. _Just great_.

“Gotcha!” Harry turned the corner suddenly and scooped the small boy into his arms. After a brief standoff with the toddler, the pants were removed from his head. Harry set Teddy down before turning to look at the pants in his hand.

“Draco…?” Harry asked with barely restrained laughter. The crest of his house was plastered all over it and it was a deep and shimmery  _emerald._

“Er.... I…”

“Why do you have _Slytherin underwear_?” Laughter won out and Harry doubled over, snorting. Draco snatched them from his hands, his face cherry red.

“They were a gift,” he hissed. Of course Harry would have laughed at him for it. He’d never fully understood the Wizarding World. He’d never understood what it meant to be a Slytherin, to have it be a defining factor in  _every_ aspect of life. He’d never--

“Hey,” he said softly, grabbing Draco’s arm. “I didn’t mean to offend you. It  _is_ kind of funny. But, I’ll stop laughing if it really bothers you, Draco.”

Apologize? Draco blinked a couple of times, unable to believe _Harry freakin’ Potter_  was apologizing to him. _For laughing at him_.

“Let’s go for a pint,” Draco said, avoiding talking about whatever is just happened.

“Alright, let me just tell Andi we’re going out.” He walked out and Draco watched him go. After a second, he came to his senses and ran upstairs to change out of his moving clothes and into something worthy of actually being seen in.

When he came down, Harry was waiting by the front door, humming absently. He hadn’t changed out of his baggy jeans and a white t-shirt and Sirius’ leather jacket  _and how did he look so goddamn good with that little effort?_

They walked into the evening air, the two of them ambling towards a pub a couple of blocks over. Harry made comments about some of his favourite Muggle places to go. Draco only half listened, but he watched Harry with interest. When he smiled, his glasses rode up his nose as it crinkled. And when he laughed at the kids walking home with their, his eyes crinkled and he threw his head back a little and his hair moved to rest on the collar of his jacket and _Merlin why was he a love-sick schoolboy again?_

The pub was mostly empty when they entered, and Draco made a beeline for a table while Harry went to get the pints. He berated himself for acting like a love-sick child, the noise not enough to completely drown out his thoughts. And there were a lot of them.

He looked up to see what was taking Harry so long, only to find him in deep conversation with a tall woman. They were laughing at something the woman had said. She leaned in as he threw his head back and put her hand on his arm. Draco stood suddenly, jostling the table and startling the few patrons nearest him, but he didn't care. _Of course_ he’d be into girls, he _had_ dated Weaslette during school. Hell, they’d been dating at the beginning of this year too!

As Draco hit the door to storm out in a dramatic fashion, the realization hit him. _He had a thing for Potter_. He stood near the door, unable to move as he reflected on this. He didn’t see Harry excuse himself from the tall woman’s company. Instead of throwing a fit, she nodded and went back to her table, as if nothing had happened. He didn’t see Harry come out until he was standing in front of him.

“Draco, what the hell happened? Is everything okay?” His eyebrows were crinkled with worry and his eyes looked at Draco with so much care and concern and _it hurt_.

“Just go back inside and play nice with the lady. I’m going home.” _Home_ where he lived with Potter who he had a thing for. Draco jerked around Potter to leave.

“She was trying to flirt with me, yeah--”

“Then just--!”

“But I told her I was with someone else tonight.”

Draco could _feel_ him step closer and he struggled to take a deep breath. When he finally caught his breath, he said, “Whatever, _Potter_. I’m going home.”

“Why are you being so dense?” Potter asked. There was nothing accusatory in his tone, just...humour, and disbelief. Draco, who’d never been accused of being dense in his life, turned around to yell at Potter but was taken aback by how close he was standing.

“Why am I--? Merlin’s left nut, Potter, how are _you_ so dense! I’m living in your house, for Merlin’s sake! I help you watch Teddy, _I go Christmas shopping with you!_ We used to hate each other and now we’re Christmas shopping for each other! How hard is it for you to get it through your thick skull that I--!”

His words were cut off by Harry’s hand going to his hip and the other is reaching for his _face_ and _oh fuck Harry Potter is going to kiss him._ He wanted to be angry they were resolving their argument with such a cliche but Harry was a good kisser and Draco was _very_ weak. 

They moved closer together, Draco running his hand through Harry’s hair and the other gripping his jacket. Harry smirked like a tosser and pulled back finally. He was breathing heavily, his lips slightly swollen, and his eyes brighter. Draco stared at him for a minute, unable to believe Harry Potter just kissed him. Someone he used to hate with all of his being. Just  _ kissed him _ . And then Harry laughed again and Draco dragged him closer for another kiss because he could.

After several minutes of snogging in the middle of the sidewalk, Harry pulled away to ask if Draco wanted to go somewhere to talk about  _ this _ . Reluctantly, Draco nodded and followed him, hand in hand to a cafe a few blocks away. It took longer than strictly necessary because Draco insisted on stopping every few minutes to pull Harry to him for another kiss.

* * *

At the end of the night, the new couple walked into Grimmauld Place, thinking they were being sneaky. Andi peeked around the corner of the kitchen as she heard them come into the house. She smiled softly as they stood in the hallway, the soft light coming from the hall upstairs filtering down just enough to see them kiss tenderly. Harry swears he saw Andi smirk as she disappeared around the corner, but he shook his head in disbelief.

“We have a long day tomorrow,” he whispered, refusing to break the soft spell that seemed to fill the hallway.

“It’s only Christmas Eve, Harry,” Draco whispered back with a roll of his eyes. They weren’t having people over until Christmas Day. ( _ They _ .)

“But we need to get a tree and decorate it, decorate the rest of the house, finish wrapping and stuffing stockings, and prepping food and…”

Draco cut him off with another kiss and a mumbled, “Quit stressing.” Harry made a harrumph noise, but returned the kiss. Reluctantly, they said their good nights and went to their respective rooms. Draco stared up at the ceiling above his bed, his heart and thoughts racing. He was dating Harry Potter. Harry Potter was dating him. They were a couple. His wildest dream had come true. All of those hearts in his notebooks weren’t entirely useless daydreams.

He grinned like a lovesick boy, blushed, and flopped over and pushed his face into his pillow, suppressing a giggle. Merlin’s pants, he’d become a blubbering mess in a matter of hours.  _ It was so great. _

* * *

Draco sat up suddenly, still wearing his clothes from the night before, the sounds of someone’s scream echoing in his ears.  _ No _ . He grabbed his wand for the bedside table, fear chilling his bones.  _ Was the war really over _ ? He took three or four stairs at a time, flying around the corner at the bottom of them towards the sound of the second scream. It was too similar to the first and too similar to ones he’d heard before.

“ _ Harry! _ ” Draco yelled as he threw the door open. Inside, he saw his boyfriend sitting curled in a corner, covered in sweat, tears staining his face. Confusion warped Draco’s face but when Harry sobbed, he realized the screams had come from him.

“Harry…” 

He put his wand away before settling beside Harry, pulling him closer. Harry buried his head into Draco’s neck, silently crying. Instead of making him talk, Draco just rubbed his back and held him.

While they were wrapped up in comforting each other, Mrs. Weasley, who Kreacher had called, and Andi stood to look in on them, a faint smile on their faces.

“Is this new?” Molly asked, pulling the door shut softly. Andi nodded and recounted the scene she’d watched tonight, and Molly let out a soft laugh. “Oh, Ron’s going to have a laugh at this.”

It was a while before the crippling pain eased enough for Harry to talk. When he spoke, his voice was rough from screaming and sobbing. “I was back in Umbridge’s office…”

“Harry, you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” Draco continued rubbing circles on his back, his cheek resting on top of Harry’s head.

“No, I think you should know… And she was making me write lines again. I must not tell lies. And Dumbledore was there and he just watched and said, ‘This is what I raised you for.’ and then they both disappeared and it was just me and You-Know-Who, and he laughed as he recounted how he killed my parents and….”

“I’m here for you,” is all Draco said in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a kudos (if you haven't already <3 ) and you can always always ALWAYS leave a comment!
> 
> as always, many thanks to my lovely irene who helped me out of a few tight spots here and there. and this time, thanks to emmi and maddi who helped with one scene in particular
> 
> (thanks again to irene whom i love with all of my tiny heart bc she helps me so much and juust ljkdlajdla jda jthis honestly wouldn't happen without her)


	9. first comes love, then comes the prophet article

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a big thanks to irene!! my lovely friend who helps me with the weirdest problems and is a major help to my creative process esp w these dorks

Harry woke up sitting on the floor, leaning against Draco on the floor in his room. Draco’s wand rested on the floor next to him, within easy reach of his hand. He snored quietly from where his head rested against Harry’s, and Harry smiled. Slowly, he moved to lean up and kiss Draco’s cheek. Instead of the slow wake up that Harry had intended, Draco jolted awake, grabbing his wand from the floor.

“Harry?!” he whispered as he grabbed Harry’s hand, worry written across his features.

“I’m fine, I just…” Harry turned red, embarrassment evident. Draco visibly relaxed and leaned into Harry again.

“What happened last night?” Draco asked after a few minutes of silence. Harry stiffened in his arms, vague memories flashing through his mind.

“I...had a nightmare.”

“I got that much, Harry. Do they happen often?” He pulled back to look at the Boy Who Lived, pain etched into his face, pain that went deeper than the surface.

“They were more common this summer. That’s the first one I’ve had since October.” And Draco didn’t ask anymore. Harry was silently relieved. Together they slowly stood and stretched the aches from sleeping on the floor off.

Harry hesitated. He knew he needed to get ready. They did have a long day ahead of them, but the idea of being alone had suddenly becoming riddled with crippling anxiety. While Molly and Andi had often helped him through his nightmares and the horrible hours following, but he was always alone.

But Draco had said, “I’m here for you.” To what extent did he mean it?

“Draco?” Harry asked quietly. Draco was taken aback by his...timid...tone. When had Harry ever been timid?

“What is it?” Draco responded equally as quiet. They were stood close together and Harry leaned into Draco, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Don’t leave me alone, okay?” Harry mumbled into his shoulder. Draco smiled, wrapping his arms around Harry and hugging him close.

“Okay.”

* * *

The morning was relatively slow. Harry showered, Draco providing idle chatter in the bathroom from the toilet. He continued the chatter while Harry dressed in his room, while Draco showered and Harry sat on the toilet, and while Draco dressed. It wasn’t until they reached the dining room that Harry seemed to brighten a little. He held Teddy closely as they settled to eat. Draco stared into his teacup, lost deep in thought. He didn’t see Andi come in through the front door, her face twisted into a scowl. She held The Daily Prophet in her bone white hands. The edges of the paper had started to wrinkle and Harry could see the ink smudging onto her hands.

Harry put Teddy into his high chair, glancing back at Draco but he didn’t move. He and Andi stepped into the hallway, whispered voices tight with worry.

“Have you seen _the Prophet_ this morning?” she asked tightly, shaking the offended paper. Harry watched a member of the Holyhead Harpies zip around the back page of the paper. He shook his head and reached forward to read the headline.

“Boy Who Lives Seen Kissing Malfoy Heir… Well, fuck,” Harry said eloquently. Andi snorted, before laughing out right.

“ _Prophet_ writers have no morals, even with Skeeter gone. How are you going to handle this?” There was an odd sense of irony in this situation. Most of his life, he’d dreaded The Daily Prophet and the bad news and slander it would bring. They’d attempted a similar type of headline during the Triwizard Tournament with Harry and Hermione, but it hadn’t caught on. Now they were printing about Harry’s relationship as if this were a magazine and not a supposed serious newspaper. He snorted at the irony and shook his head, handing the paper back to Andi.

“Just ride it out. Something else will catch their eye soon and they’ll be distracted again.”

“And until then?”

“Well, we’ll--”

There was the loud rushing of the fireplace as it lit up green with the Floo Network. Shocked, Harry and Andi looked into the living room to see Narcissa Malfoy step from their fireplace. She stiffly dusted her clothes and then quickly made eye contact with the two people still gape-mouthed in the hallway.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” she called, still staring right at Harry and Andi. Wide-eyed, Draco hurried into the living room, Teddy on his hip. His mother did a double take at the sight but shook her head. That was something to talk about later.

“How could you?” she started, stepping closer. Harry immediately bristled. Draco didn’t know about the article yet. “Even after everything that happened, I would think that you would still owl and tell me something like this. Instead, I had to find out from _The Prophet_?”

“Mum, what the hell--” he started, confusion written in every muscle of his body.

“Someone caught a photo of us kissing, Draco,” Harry said as he stepped closer. “And so we made front page news.” Harry stopped as he came to stand by Draco’s side, absently ruffling Teddy’s purple hair. Draco’s face rippled through confusion, understanding, anger, and confusion again.

“And why are you here, Mother?” Draco asked a little coldly. “If it’s to disown me--”

“No! Never, Draco. Never… I just wished you’d owled to tell me about this is all.” She looked sad, knowing her son was drawing away from her. He had every right to, after the events of the last few years. It didn’t mean it hurt less.

“If you have a problem with my choice of boyfriend you--”

“I think you and Harry complement each other well, love.”

There was silence for a moment, Draco staring at his mother in astonishment. Andi was the first one to break the silence by inviting her sister to lunch. Narcissa hesitated. The welcoming invitation was...unsettling. She hadn’t talked to Andromeda in  _years_ , but she missed her sister. There was a lot to fix, both with her sister, her son and his boyfriend. Lunch seemed a good place to start.

“Then let’s get you out of those stuffy manor clothes, Cissy. Come on, I have some stuff that’ll fit you.” Narcissa argued all the way up the stairs, but it left Harry and Draco alone (Teddy didn’t understand what was going on, so it was the same as being alone).

“I’m sorry you found out this way, Draco.” Harry leaned into the shoulder not currently occupied by Teddy’s head and Draco wrapped his arm around Harry.

“Well, it’s a hell of a story, that’s for sure.” The matter of fact way Draco said it made Harry giggle. It started just as one, but it slowly grew into a full-blown laugh. Draco smiled, laughing as well at the carefree sound Harry was making. It was a relief after the night they’d had.

“Out of everything that’s happened this is a hell of a story,” he said between giggles, shaking his head. Harry suddenly stopped laughing, groaning instead. He sank onto the couch, running his hands through his already messy hair.

“Harry?”

“I thought I was finally through with people talking behind my back at school, but this is gonna be worse than anything I went through the first six years…” Draco made a breathy noise, trying to hide the hurt. “I’m never gonna hear the end of this from the team… And Ron is gonna gloat that he was right all this time, and _Hermione_ … she’s never going to let me live this down…”

“I’m sorry whatever this is is going to cause undue strain, Potter,” Draco said stiffly, setting Teddy onto the floor next to him. Harry looked up, frowning at Draco.

“Undue… Strain… Draco, it’s not a big deal.” He quickly stood to grab his hand pull him close. “I just wanted one year where I could pretend I was a normal student, but as usual, you had different plans.”

Draco scoffed, turning his head away. “Again, I apologize for ruining your year.” His voice was stiff, his body held tightly.

“Draco… It’s not a bad thing. I wouldn’t trade you and this,” he gestured between them, unable to fully define what this is, “for anything in the world. It’s just… going to be tedious. It also means you’re going to have to hang out with my friends. Which is both hilarious and terrifying.”

Wide-eyed terror in the face of befriending _Granger_ and _Weasley_ was priceless to Harry. He smirked at Draco and he looked _everything_ like the few pictures and portraits of Sirius scattered around the house.

“You’re going to enjoy this, aren’t you?” Draco said, resigned.

“Definitely.” Harry laughed at Draco’s pout and hesitantly leaned in to kiss him. They leaned closer, a small smile on their faces. Teddy, however, had horrible timing and Harry could _hear_ Tonks laughing. The toddler was tugging on Harry’s shirt, making the grabby hands for up. Rolling his eyes, Harry picked him up to settle him on his hip. Teddy screeched his approval, his hair flashing pink momentarily.

Andi and Narcissa descended the stairs, Andi looking like herself and Narcissa looking like Andi. Draco gaped at the acid washed jeans and frumpy, brightly colored sweatshirt. Narcissa tugged at it awkwardly before meeting her son’s eyes.

“You look great, Mum,” Draco said with a smile. Kreacher announced lunch was being served. The table was set for four people and a toddler. Narcissa briefly looked confused at the lack of a head table but settled next to her sister without a word.

Lunchtime chatter was light and easy, Harry and Draco making jokes about the article, Andi cooing over Teddy and his antics. He had decided to go mint green with what little hair he had but was slowly discovered he could do more than one thing with his hair. Aunt Petunia had though Harry’s hair was near impossible to cut? Teddy made his hair grow whenever and however he wanted, often to the dismay of his godfather who was trying to trim his hair out of his eyes.

“He’s so much like Tonks… And add in the mischief Remus used to get up to, with you as his godfather? He’s bound to be almost as bad as Fred and George!” Andi commented, laughing. Harry’s heart panged at the remembered loss of Fred but smiled. If Harry raised Teddy to be half as mischievous and brilliant as Fred was, he’d have honored him well.

“How’s school?” Narcissa asked lamely as the chatter slowed. Both Draco and Harry looked startled. Such a mundane question had never been asked of them. There were always more pressing matters to be informed of, on both sides of the war. Draco started first, talking about being the only Slytherin to return for eighth year. When he told his mother and aunt how boring his classes were, Harry rolled his eyes, but he understood. When Draco finished, Andi turned to Harry.

“What about for you, love?” Andi asked with that motherly smile that made Harry’s heartache.

“Honestly? I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m teaching kids defensive spells in the old D.A. practice room because it makes the kids feel _important_ and like it was this amazing thing to be apart of a rebellion with _The Chosen One_ as their leader. I have to walk past places that have _horrible_ memories attached. I have to sleep in a bed and suffer through my nightmares and try not to wake my roommates because I don’t want that attention. Most days it’s hard to care about anything, even Quidditch. I don’t know what else to do. My entire life has been fighting You-Know-Who, and now that he’s gone… What am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to be normal, I don’t know what it means to be a teenager. I’ve always been a rebel, a fighter, a soldier. And now I don’t know what or who I am… So school sucks,” Harry said lamely at the end of his rant.

He hadn’t meant to go so far into how he felt, but something about the mundane question angered him. How could everyone act like the war hadn’t happened? Like it was over and all the problems that came with it just instantly vanished with the death of Tom Riddle? He shook his head and mumbled an apology.

“Don’t ever apologize,” Narcissa whispered fiercely, tears making it hard for her to speak. “None of this should have happened. If the people in power had done their jobs, you would know what it was like to be normal. My Draco would know what it was like to be normal. Don’t ever apologize for doing the right thing, even though the system failed you. You may have been a child, Harry, but that doesn’t diminish your achievements. It also doesn’t diminish the atrocities committed by those in charge.”

“And Harry… I’ll always be here to keep you from getting too large of a head,” Draco said, his hand settling over Harry’s. Harry smiled as he listened to the laughter of the Blacks in the room echo through the house. Most days, Harry felt empty. When he was with his family, that emptiness faded a little.

* * *

Narcissa came with the rest of the family to finish Christmas dinner shopping before tomorrow.  
“Okay, Andi and Narcissa, you’re in charge of food and drinks because you’ve actually planned and hosted Christmas dinners before,” Harry said once they reached the Muggle shopping center.

“And then you and Draco are in charge of last minute ornaments and presents for everyone else,” Andi said, already fishing for her shopping list in her purse. She also handed Harry a second list of people to buy small presents for and any missing decorations.

“Good luck,” Draco said, waving away his mother and aunt with Teddy. 

They went their separate directions, and the very long shopping trip began.

Teddy helped pick out a myriad of decorations, and often helped settle arguments between Draco and Harry.

“I’m your godfather, you’re supposed to side with me,” Harry pouted as he put the green and silver tinsel in the cart, placing the red and gold tinsel back on the shelf. Teddy giggled and leaned into Draco’s shoulder.

“Hey, I can’t help that I’m the more favorable of the two,” Draco said with a smirk. Harry gave a grumpy “hmph” and Draco smiled wide.

“Are you pouting of tinsel colors, Potter?” The ribbing would have been more digestible if Draco hadn’t insisted on wearing the gaudiest Slytherin piece of clothing he owned. And Harry knew _those_ boxers were currently being worn and it honestly drove him a little mad.

“Maybe,” he said in lieu of a real answer.

When they met up with Andi and Narcissa, they said there were going to take the food and the toddler home, and what little Draco and Harry managed to agree on enough to buy. They were given orders to stay on behind and continuing searching.

There was some searching…

There were some searching hands and two boys searching for places to hide and reporters searching for more juicy gossip on the Wizarding World’s hottest new couple.

What better way to start off Christmas than with a front page picture of Harry with his hands up Draco’s shirt and Draco’s hands gripping Harry’s thighs, tugging him closer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: after christmas in the fic, things are going to get a little dark for a while. harry is NOT over what happened in the war and i want to discuss that in this fic. i'll try to tag the beginning of the chapter the PTSD flashbacks occur in and where you can pick up to ignore that PTSD stuff if you can't/don't want to deal with it.


	10. harry's first christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's christmas!!!!
> 
> this is a Long Chapter for me. it took a few days to put together, and I'm honestly surprised at how long it is (it is the longest chapter so far) but there was so much i wanted to fit in!!!
> 
> fair warning: u will need tissues and u probably shouldnt read this in class/at work/at dinner or wherever you might read in public. There Will Be Tears.

Someone was bouncing on the bed. At 8 am. On Christmas. Harry groaned and rolled over, snuggling closer to Draco.

Wait… If Draco was next to him… and Teddy was too young to even care about the excitement around Christmas…

“Who let you in?” Harry groaned, not looking up from where his face was buried in Draco’s shoulder. The bouncing stopped with an evil cackle and Harry cursed the Weasleys for turning Ginny into this demonic person that was now disturbing his very nice sleep.

“Andi said to come on over and we’d start making dinner now, and by the time we’re done the cooking for everyone, hopefully, they’ll all be here. Then we can do presents!”

“And you came up here to bother me why?” he said, glaring at her. He hadn’t actually moved his yet, but Ginny could still feel it.

“I was hoping to catch you being indecent so I could tell everyone, but instead I found you just being disgustingly cute and domestic. I can’t make a good story out of that!” She huffed but didn’t move.

“Ginny.”

“Yes?”

“You can leave now. I’m awake.” She still didn’t move, and Harry rolled his eyes. He would gladly trade Ginny in for being an only sibling again if this was the kind of treatment he was going to receive, and this wasn’t the first time he’d contemplated returning to his only child status.

“Ginny…” he said in a warning tone, a plan already formulating in his head. How Draco was asleep was beyond him, and he had a feeling Draco was pretending now, but he continued anyway. When Ginny still refused to move from where she sat between Draco and Harry’s legs, Harry took drastic measures. He drew his legs up to him slowly, while Ginny prattled on about their plans and what everyone’s been doing since school let out.

In a flash of movement, with the reflexes of a Seeker, Harry shoved her off the bed with his foot. She fell to the floor in an unceremonious heap, with a loud squeal. Draco snorted, and Harry knew he’d been awake the whole time.

Ginny huffed and threw a Body-Bind Jinx at the both of them before walking out. Harry cackled inwardly until the jinx wore off, rolling over to look at the man occupying his bed. Draco rolled his eyes, putting his palm against Harry’s face to push him away. Draco Apparated upstairs to his room to dress for the festivities.

As he got ready for the day, his mind raced ahead of him. This Christmas was a big deal. It was the first Christmas after the war. His first Christmas with Draco. Teddy’s first Christmas. Andi’s first without her daughter and Ted, the Weasleys’ without Fred, Harry’s without Remus and Sirius. Although they were supposed to celebrate the end of the war and the general exuberance of the holidays, it was much harder than even during the war.

Knowing Draco would make his way downstairs when he felt comfortable, and to hopefully avoid looking like they’d slept in the same bed, Harry went down when he was finished. He ran down the stair and was surrounded by Weasleys the moment he reached the last step.

Molly and Arthur pulled him in for tight hugs. Bill shook his hand and Fleur kissed his cheeks. Charlie nodded with a grin from where he stood, avoiding the mass. Percy gave a terse nod. Surprise was not adequate to describe how he felt about seeing Percy here, but Harry returned his gesture anyway. George gave him a hug and Harry could feel the weariness in him as he pulled away. Ginny sulked in the corner, but Harry ignored her to eagerly looked for Ron.

“Hey mate.” He turned to see his best mate grinning widely a few steps away from his family. They parted to let Harry hug Ron, the two of them laughing. They hugged for several long moments while the family dispersed to continue their activities before Christmas could really get started. That left Ron and Harry alone, and all at once, embarrassment crept over Harry.

“Sorry I haven’t Flooed in,” Harry said, looking sheepish. “Been a bit busy.” Which was an understatement, but Harry hoped Ron would at least hear him out, if not forgive him.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about it!” Ron laughed loudly as Harry’s cheeks colored. When he sputtered to apologize, Ron placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re happy, even if it is with Malfoy.”

Any tension drained from Harry’s body and their conversation flowed naturally after that. Harry had _missed_ Ron. This was the longest they’d been separated since they’d met. Even during the war when he left him and Hermione, there wasn’t this much of a gap. Harry excitedly asked for details about what the world was like, now that You-Know-Who was gone. Ron didn’t comment on Harry’s lack of use of You-Know-Who’s name, and he didn’t intend to.

Instead, Ron told stories upon stories of the joke shop and Hermione’s parents and what it’s like not being in school anymore. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little pang of jealousy at the variety in Ron’s life.

“And George has hired several werewolves, giving them a place to stay above the shop too,” Ron said, taking a drink from the teacup Kreacher had brought in. “We’re trying to secure the recipe for the Wolfsbane Potion as well. Once we can secure the recipe, we’ll be able to brew it for the werewolves working with us and to hopefully make it widespread enough for others to afford it.”

“The Lupin Project is going well, then?” Harry moved to the fireplace, wanting to ward away the chill of the morning that had seeped in overnight. He took a long drink of his tea, watching his best friend become excited over helping these people.

“Oh yeah! When we’re not at the shop, we’re learning about werewolves, figuring out what laws hurt them and how to fix them, and finding werewolves all over the country to tell them they can always drop by. It’s tough work, and we never go on a full moon, lest one of them gets a little grumpy and decides to make us a snack. Or one of them. But so far so good.”

“I’m glad you’re helping, Ron. I know it means a lot to Remus.” A proud grin had spread across Harry’s face; his best mate was doing something all his own, which is what Ron had always wanted. And not only was it something all his own, but it was something that helped other people. People who were shunned because of something that happened _to them_.

“Bill getting scratched was kind of a realization. I knew what Lupin went through, and I can’t imagine them letting Bill do his job as a werewolf. And then Lavender… We may not have ended things properly, but she doesn’t deserve to have her life destroyed because of the war.”

“How is she?” Harry asked, moving to sit back down across from Ron. He may not have loved Lavender, but he knows that she deserved better and that Parvati misses her. Had she been keeping in contact?

“She’s as good as she can be. The transformations are hard on her, definitely. But I’m taking notes from your dad’s book and starting the process of becoming an Animagus.”

“Seriously?” Harry asked, astonished.

“Until we can get a solid potion going, they need help any way they can get it. If it worked for Lupin and the others, why can’t it work for them as well?”

Others would look at Ron and say he’s just a follower, that he’s only Harry’s friend because he’s jealous of the fame and money… But Harry knew he was fiercely loyal, and refused to see anyone being mistreated in any form.

“Kingsley _is_ trying, but there’s so much to fix…” He trailed off, and Harry knew what he was thinking. So many people were lost during the war, so many jobs unfilled because they were corrupted or dead. Without much prodding, the conversation suddenly slammed to a halt as memories of their friends and family lost floated to the forefront. Harry let a few tears fall into his lap, but Ron looked away to hide the tears.

“I miss them all, too, Ron,” Harry tried to comfort. Ron nodded and didn’t say anything. But when he turned to face Harry, he was smiling again.

“Enough about me, let’s hear more about the Chosen One. Tell me the latest at Hogwarts!” Ron had an intense look, excitement all over his face to hear the antics of Hogwarts students. Underneath, however, was a smirk that made him look everything like his brothers. Draco was _really_ the topic Ron was looking to talk about, but he was going to let Harry come to it when he wanted.

“Well, Quidditch is going really well…” Harry launched into several Quidditch stories and stories about classes in the D.A. practice room, and anything he could think of that wasn’t what being back at Hogwarts actually meant to Harry. Or Draco.

“And the tables aren’t separated anymore. Everyone sits where they want now. So, Luna sits with us every day at meals now, and other students are doing the same. I honestly don’t think the first years know anything different.”

“Does Draco eat with you guys?”

“Yes,” Harry said grudgingly, trying to hide his smile. Ron didn’t bother to hide his. He leaned in closer to Harry, as if they were planning something. Memories of the many nights they’d sat like this, trying to stay alive, and now they were sat here discussing _boys_. The dissonance between them was hard to see through, events bleeding into one another.

It was only when Ron spoke that Harry was dragged back into the present.  “And how exactly did you end up with Draco? And don’t spare me any details.”

“Well, after the class in the D.A. room, I went to see Winky because I forwent lunch to prepare, as the Room was being testy and I wanted to make sure it opened. When I got there, Draco was having tea and cookies. I guess he was escaping everything like I was. And I basically told him if he wanted a fight, he’d have to look elsewhere. And then I didn’t see him again until after the Quidditch match when we went for a drink after. That was… Nice. And then we just started hanging out more. I invited him to Christmas, that’s when things escalated a bit more. Obviously, you saw the _Prophet_ article…” Harry’s face was a deep red by the time he finished his sentence lamely.

“As long as he makes you happy, and he’s not trying to hurt you. I’m glad found someone, Harry. As great as it was to see you with Ginny, obviously this is better for every party involved.”

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that, Ron.”

“It… took awhile for me to get comfortable with it, once I got the first letter from Ginny and Hermione. Ginny’s was almost certainly teasing you, but Hermione wanted to actually talk about it with me. When the article came out, I wasn’t upset as upset. It’s obvious you fancy each other, and I still may not trust him completely… but he had a lot of his own issues. I don’t think we should condemn him for his parents.”

“Look at Ronald, having more than the emotional range a teaspoon,” Harry teased. Ron laughed and told him to fuck off. Their conversation was lighter after, but Harry felt so relieved Ron didn’t hate him for becoming a thing with Draco.

Ron really was his best mate.

* * *

“Do you need a hand?” Draco asked as he made his way into the kitchen. Inside, Molly, Andi, and Fleur sat with Kreacher, preparing the meal for later that evening. He’d Apparated down into the hallway, wanting to avoid the stairs if at all possible. There wasn’t really a good reason, he was just lazy.

“You can come peel potatoes with me, love, so Fleur can get to making the pudding,” Andi said with a smile. Fleur thanked her and set down her potato, her wand tucked into her sleeve.

“Magic or Muggle?” Andi held an odd little contraption in her hand and to avoid embarrassment, he almost opted for magic. But Harry’s words about feeling more accomplished when doing things the Muggle way echoed back into his head. Grumbling, he took the potato peeler from Andi and plopped into his seat to start. Andi walked him through the basics and off they went.

The chatter in the kitchen was unfamiliar to Draco in every aspect. First of all, having a literal hand in the preparation of the meal was foreign. The kind, easy, mindless chatter was new. But… it was nice. Molly talked to Fleur about the possibility of children, Andi provided stories of everything new with Teddy, and Fleur excitedly talked about her work with Bill after the war. Draco was surprised to see Narcissa come in, wearing more of Andi’s Muggle clothes, and ask where she’d be of most help.

Everyone was shocked, but Molly was the first to unfreeze.

“Well, we do need someone to chop the veggies… Here. Sit at the table and I’ll get you a knife and a cutting board,” she said, bustling around the kitchen to call the items from the cabinets. Once they were in hand, she set them gracefully in front of Narcissa, who slowly began to chop the potatoes. All of the sounds were surprisingly comforting to Draco, and he realized he didn’t ever want this to end.

“I see you made the front page, Draco,” Molly smiled as she handed him and Andi a large bowl of carrots. He ducked his red face behind the carrots and peeler. She laid her hand on his shoulder, her whole demeanor radiating motherly warmth.

“I think it is a bold thing to display your love to the world like that, especially when _Prophet_ acts the way it does,” Fleur said. She turned to look at Draco, covered in flour and chocolate from making the Christmas pudding. He mumbled his thanks but didn’t look up. However, when his mother spoke, Draco looked straight at her in shock.

“It’ll be hard, with your two’s past, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

“Absolutely right,” Molly said, brandishing a spoon at Narcissa. “After all we’ve been through, you two are the perfect balm for everyone.”

“The media attention will be atrocious, no doubt, but you can make a game of it if you really wanted,” Andi said with a glimmer in her eyes that was pure mischief. “Have fun with it. You deserve it. Everyone kind of does after the years we’ve had.”

“My son, half a celebrity couple…” Narcissa shook her lightly, a bright smile on her face. Draco had forgotten the look, and he realized how much older his mother looked without it. The realization made him look around at the women standing in here with him, and he was surprised at how much older they _all_ looked, even young, Veela Fleur. The war was hard on everyone, but they were all sat here giving Draco advice on how to handle his now celebrity-status relationship with smiles and laughter and love.

“So how did you two end up in this position?” Fleur asked as she checked the pudding in the oven again. She’d moved onto to the other desserts but still managed to remember exactly what she was doing and never wasted a moment or energy. Draco hesitated to tell the tale because it did involve some embarrassing stories on his part… But he might have to start getting good at it if the Wizarding World does become that invested in his relationship.

“Harry came into the kitchen looking for lunch one day while I was escaping for a bit of tea and cookies. And I started my usual snide comments with him, but he didn’t respond. At all. And when I asked him why he didn’t fight me back, why he just _sat there_ all quiet, he told me,” Draco said, clearing his throat to mimic Harry’s accent, “Malfoy, those days are over. I’m too bloody tired to fuel our rivalry, or whatever. Whatever punishment you think you deserve, I’m not going to give it to you. Suffer with the consequences of your actions like the bloody rest of us, Malfoy. You don’t get forgiveness or whatever the hell it is you’re searching for by me beating you to a bloody pulp. Find a better way to make amends.”

He let silence follow his statement, remembering how it felt to hear that from him.

“And then I sat in the kitchens and cried. It was like he’d managed to pierce through every insecurity I’d ever had and he had no idea he’d done it. _And he was right_. Afterward, we rarely interacted. Passed each other in the halls, sure. Saw each other at meals, of course. But then the Quidditch game… I’ve always been a bit weak for Quidditch players,” he said with a bit of a blush, side-eyeing his mother as he said this. It was a bit awkward to admit.

“The Snitch was sitting straight in front of me, just bobbing up and down merrily. And once he’d noticed it, I knew the game was over. He sped towards it and I’m terrified he’s going to slam into me because the Firebolt is ridiculously fast. But Harry’s better than that. He slid to a stop barely a foot in front of me, his fingers closing around the Snitch. Then the bastard had the audacity to _wink_ at me. Harry took off around on a victory lap and I was...left feeling a bit confused.

“Afterwards, we went out for a pint to avoid the party that was evidently going on in Gryffindor Tower. I, erm, got a little bit more wasted than intended, and there were some embarrassing confessions. After that… Well, we started hanging out more and then he asked me to stay for Christmas and… Well, you know the rest of the story.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his face almost as red as the strawberries Fleur was using to make compote.

“That is a lovely story, Draco,” Molly said. Her soft smile made Draco almost collapse in relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been.

After that, Draco was easily drawn into the easy conversations as they worked their way through Christmas dinner for Draco can’t remember how many people.

And it was _really_ fucking nice.

* * *

“Everyone’s here!” Ginny cried. Harry stared at the dining room and was delighted to see the spell had worked. There was enough room for people in the dining room now, both for the food and the people. Around the table sat the Weasleys, Fleur, Hermione and her parents, Draco and his mum, Andi and Teddy, Neville and his gran, Luna and her dad. Professor McGonagall had actually accepted his invitation, and Harry himself. Twenty-two people stood in his house.

There were very obvious gaps, of course. No chair was left open, but they were felt nonetheless. Fred. Remus and Tonks. Ted. Sirius. Mad-Eye Moody. Harry looked around, and he felt the pain in his chest at those who were missing. But it was eased a little by all those still here. _His family_.

Draco nudged Harry slightly, pulling him from his reverie. Arthur stood up and cleared his throat, drawing attention from the side conversations around the room.

“It’s so good to see everyone,” Arthur said. Smiling faces met him, but everyone waited with bated breath. “It’s been a long, hard year. Last Christmas was...empty and hard for everyone. We were scattered about the country, awaiting an inevitable battle. There are a lot of people missing from our lives now…” He stopped, tears closing up his throat. Molly pulled him back into his seat, squeezing his hand as tears filled her eyes too.

“We lost a lot,” Andi picked up, standing. “But we’re all here now, together and safe. Happiness may be a little ways off, but we’re together, and that’s important.” She sat, smiling as she looked at Harry and Teddy. Silence filled the room after she sat, but after a few moments passed, a chair scraped across the floor slowly as George stood. And for the first time in a long time, Harry heard George speak. His voice was rusty as if he hadn’t spoken in many years. Harry thought he probably hadn’t had much to say in a little while.

“It’s been a little over seven months without my twin. I’ve never been without him for any period of time. We did everything together. _Everything_. My baby brother Ron has stepped up to help me run the shop. Sometimes, he’s there for Fred. Other days he’s there for both of us. It’s not been easy, and it never will be. I feel incomplete all the time now because half of me is missing. But when I sit here with my family, those of you related by blood and those of you not, I feel a little bit more whole.” George gave a watery smile to everyone at the table. When he sat down, Ron hugged him tightly.

Everyone waited, wondering if someone else would speak before dinner started. Feeling an odd tug, Harry stood.

“Thanks, everyone, for coming,” he started awkwardly. Harry remembered the awkward speeches he often gave at D.A. meetings and realized he’d never been very good at this. “I want to say it’s just been a tough _year_ , for me… But for all of my life, I’ve struggled to get _here_. To be safe and loved and cared for. And I wish everyone could be here,” he said around a choked sob. Draco took his hand without a word, squeezing it gently in the same way Molly had done with Arthur. “My mum and dad most of all, but everyone else we’ve lost along the way, too. And I try not to be bitter. To think why me? Why us? But looking at everyone in this room… Looking at every face and knowing what we did was the right thing, despite losing so many…” He took a shuddery breath, wiping away his tears.

“In spite of everything, I’m beginning to be happy. My relationship with everyone in here is entirely unique and has changed a lot because of the war. I want to wish everyone a happy Christmas, and to please, enjoy everything.”

And with that, everyone wiped at tears and started digging in. The conversation flooded out the silence, and laughter quickly filled the room. Plates were passed around, bottles floating around to be poured as asked, some pieces of food flung from Ginny towards whoever she felt like deserved it at any given moment. (Harry ended up blocking a lot of the food over the course of dinner.)

“Are you alright?” Draco asked in a low voice as he turned to Harry, leaning close. Concern was written deeply on his face as he searched Harry’s.

“I’m fine,” Harry said with a sad smile. “There’s just a lot to process… Between all of us here, a lot of lives were lost. Not just from the Second Wizarding War, either. A lot of emotion was bound to come up.”

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Draco said, squeezing Harry’s hand again. Harry squeezed back before turning to put small bits of food onto Teddy’s plate. Andi sat on Teddy’s other side, helping Harry out when he was drawn into conversations across the table. The sounds of laughter and family warmed his heart, and he felt less like he’d lost something during the war.

Dinner continued in a similar manner for two hours. There were enormous amounts of food and desserts. No one felt like moving to the living room to open presents, but Ginny insisted, dragging Hermione and Luna with her. Molly laughed, commenting she hadn’t seen her this excited for Christmas in a long while. Slowly, in small groups, everyone removed themselves from the table to meander towards the living room.

Kreacher started to clear the table, but Harry kindly told him that he had the night off, and was allowed to join them if he wished. Harry and company would clean up the dishes later. Kreacher bowed and thanked Harry in a croaky voice before disappearing into his room.

“And this one is for George… Check the tag, dear, I don’t know who it’s from. Oh! And this one is for little Teddy… Ginny, this one is yours, love…” Molly handed out presents through a system of floating presents to their proper owner. Harry watched in fascination as a small pile built up in front of everyone; Harry’s pile was stacked neatly next to Draco’s.

“Should we do this by oldest or youngest?” Molly asked, looking over to Andi who eyed Teddy, who’d discovered the wrapping paper made noise.

“Let’s start with the youngest, yeah?”

Harry sat behind his godson, showing him how to rip the paper off. Once he’d been shown, Teddy tore off the paper excitedly.

He cared little for what was in the presents, however, and instead had fun making a mess and a lot of noise with the paper. Molly had knitted him a tiny jumper, one that he could grow into over the next year or so. Charlie got him one of the tiny dragons Harry had received during the Triwizard Tournament, but it blew steam from its nose and breathed tiny sparks of light rather than fire. It curled up next to Teddy’s leg and promptly fell asleep. Hermione had gotten him some Muggle books for him to grow into, and Ron had thrown in a few wizarding classics as well.

This continued through every person in the room, lots of exclamations of excitement and pure joy went up everytime a present was open. When it was Harry’s turn, he was a little excited to see what Draco had gotten him, and had saved that for last.

Molly had, of course, given him a brand new jumper with a large H on the front. He thanked her kindly from across the room, immediately slipping it on. McGonagall had given him a new Quidditch playbook, and a kit to help him _create_ the plays; he didn’t say anything because he had no words, but his smile was worth it to her.

It went like this until all his presents had been open, save for one. Draco’s.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Harry slowly peeled off the paper from the large box. It was light as if nothing was in it. The box beneath the shimmery paper was a plain cardboard box, one that Draco had used to move in. Achingly slow, Harry pulled back the flaps of the box to reveal a pillow.

He laughed on a shuddery breath as he pulled it from the box. It was split evenly into fourths, with a large panel with words on it in the middle. One shirt was a black Muggle band tee, one of Sirius’ no doubt. One was a warm gray flannel, and Harry had a feeling it was Remus’. The last two, sitting at the top of the pillow… They were soft and warm, and they complemented each other. One was a black soft tee that had been worn down to a gray, and the other was a soft blue. _His parents’._

In a halting, shaky voice, Harry read out, “We are a part of you until the very end.” His hands spasmed as he gripped the pillow, and his fingers brushed over a thick thread. Curious, he turned it over to find four Gryffindor crests sewn onto the back of it. The shades of black were varying, a prefect badge emblem sewn into one corner, Head Boy and Head Girl emblems are sewn into the other two.

“Draco…”

“Andi helped a lot,” he said quickly. “I found the shirts while cleaning out upstairs… It seemed like those rooms had been used during the first war while the Order was here… When I asked Andi what to do with them, she gave me this idea.” He fidgeted where he stood next to Harry, obviously a little nervous as to how he’d feel about this particular gift. “And I remember you telling me what they said as you went to face Tom, and I thought it was perfect…”

Not for the first time that day Harry started crying. He thought he’d lost every connection to the people he’d loved. They had left nothing tangible for him, except the love that protected him. But Draco… The man he’d been with for all of two days officially, had created this for him. Before they’d been official. Because he knew how much it would mean to Harry.

Harry dropped the pillow back into the box and stood to pull Draco into a kiss. The rest of the room cheered and clapped, with a few gagging sounds from his best mate and ex-girlfriend. They moved on to opening the rest of the presents without them, letting them have their moment. When they separated, Harry rested his forehead against Draco’s.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “So much. This means more to me than anything, and I love it.” Harry kissed him again for good measure. “I don’t think what I got you is going to stand up to this.” Draco laughed and told him he didn't care. He had too much stuff anyway.

“Draco, love, open your presents now,” Narcissa said gently, pulling the two from their little bubble, and drawing attention back to them. Draco smiled a little before looking at his own small pile of presents. There were small trinkets from Andi and his mother and a knitted sweater from Molly. (“It’s the least I can do, love,” she’d said as he thanked her and donned the sweater, much like Harry had done. It was a deep green, with a silver D knit into the front, and it looked amazing on Draco.)

The last present was a long skinny wrapped box, with Harry’s chicken-scratch signature on the top. Draco was confused as he pulled off the very red and gold wrapping paper to reveal a plain box. He slowly edged the lid off, setting it down absently beside him as he stared at what was inside.

“A Firebolt?” he whispered reverently as he lifted it out by its ebony handle. “Harry how the hell…” Everyone knew they were rare, and it was a surprise Harry had gotten his second Firebolt in time for the school year. But for him to buy a _second_ one so shortly after? And it arrived on time?

Harry leaned over, whispering in his ear, “It’s so you don’t have to beg to take a ride on my broomstick. We can ride together, now.” Draco laughed loudly, his face going pink. He continued to stare at it as if it were his firstborn, and so the family in the room simply moved onto the next person.

“He’ll need a minute,” Narcissa laughed. Seeing her son excited again was worth everything to her, and she didn’t want to miss it.

It took another hour to open the presents and clean up. Tea and butterbeer and firewhiskey were served and passed around. Everyone drank, and the atmosphere was tinged with sadness, but the laughter helped a little. Harry and Draco drifted between groups, talking and laughing about this and that. They settled next to Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Luna and Neville and the seven of them chatted until the light left the room.

Afternoon bled into night, and people slowly bade their goodnights and used the Floo to go home. Narcissa left when Andi went to bed, claiming she was tired as well. Ron and Hermione were the last to leave. Their final happy Christmases were soft, so they didn’t disturb Teddy quietly sleeping on Harry’s chest. Once they were gone, it was just Harry, Draco, and Teddy.

“Want me to take him?” Draco offered quietly.

“No, I’ll go lay him down. Want to put some tea on?”

They parted ways and Harry carried his sleeping godson up to his room. As he laid him in the crib, his heart squeezed as he thought about how his parents must have felt about him. Such a tiny human being, not in his life for very long, but who meant everything to Harry. He understood why his parents stood against You-Know-Who instead of running again. Harry would stand against You-Know-Who again if it meant keeping Teddy safe.

“Night, little monkey,” he whispered, kissing his godson’s mousy brown hair. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Harry set up the baby charms to let him know if Teddy woke up and closed the door halfway. The stairs were dark and quiet as he made his way down them, back towards the living room. Draco sat on the couch facing the window. There was a fire in the pit, and Harry smiled, seeing the remnants of Draco’s attempt at starting the fire like a Muggle.

Eyes closed, teacup resting gently in his hands, and Molly’s sweater on, Draco looked cozier than Harry’d ever seen. He poured himself a cup and settled next to Draco, leaning against him slowly.

“It was a good Christmas, yeah?” Harry asked into the quiet. Snow slowly drifted past the window, the soft sound of it landing on piles of snowing filling the room beside the crackle of the fire.

“The best I’ve had,” Draco said. When he looked at Harry, the white lights from the tree illuminated Draco’s face, giving him a kind of glow that Harry wanted to bask in for a while.

“Thanks again for the pillow. I’ll treasure that forever.” Their lips met in yet another kiss of gratitude, but when they pulled away after several minutes, there was nothing left to be said.

So they drifted off together, curled against each other in their Molly Weasley sweaters, a pleasant fire in the background and snow falling softly outside.

Despite all the incredible Christmases Harry had had with the Weasleys, this was by far the best Christmas he’d ever had, and he’d had it with _Draco Malfoy._ And he honestly wouldn’t change anything about it.

(But maybe he’d change Draco’s snoring a little…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fucking finally. i've been trying to get here since i first wrote ch 7.... but here we are!!
> 
> sorry for the sobbing u may have done, but not sorry bc Damn. this is a good chapter. I'm really proud of it, of all of it, and of the story i've created (this isn't the end, i'm just really fucking proud)
> 
> fair warning: it's gonna get angsty really quick next chapter!! and it's gonna stay that way for a while. because for me, this fic is a way to express how fucking WRONG it was that CHILDREN fought a war because the adults were too afraid. and we get a lot of how harry is and isnt deal with his ptsd (and it leans to the "mostly isnt dealing" category).
> 
> comments make my day, but kudos are just as lovely!


	11. never easy, but we try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!! i've really struggled a lot with this chapter. i know how harry feels, i can understand those feelings, but bc harry doesnt know how to voice them, neither do i. the next chapter is going to get really kind of confusing as i'm going to try to stay in only harry's head for the whole chapter while he tries to work through some of this

As the holidays had gone on and edged towards a close, Harry had become a little more tense. Draco had tried to talk to him about it, but he shrugged it off and would continue what he was doing. He woke up screaming more often than not. Harry would cry into the morning, and then act as if nothing had happened.

Andi had noticed the difference as well, and often worried with Draco over tea.

"Has this happened before?” Draco asked in a hushed whisper as they watched Harry play with Teddy.

“The only other time I remember it being this bad was right after I moved in. He was tearing the house apart, using every Muggle mean to make this house livable. As time went on, his nightmares became less and less frequent. The physical strain seemed to help. But his roommates had owled saying he’d woken up screaming several times at the beginning of the year. They wanted to know what they could do for him.”

“And?”

“I told them to just be there for him… He’s lost more than any of us because of Voldemort, and he just shoulders it.”

“He’s basically been taught that it’s his burden to bear,” Draco scoffed into his tea. “That’s why he snuck off at the battle to face Voldemort alone. He thought  _ only _ he could do it.”

Andi shook her head. They turned to watch him playing quietly with Teddy, all sadness and pain sloughed off just to make his godson smile.

“He’s so much like Sirius…” 

* * *

Harry hadn’t talked to him on the train, once they’d settled back in, or after. Draco worriedly asked after him, and his friends all wearing the same look but telling him they hadn’t seen him either. He’d even tried Hagrid’s hut, hoping Harry might just be escaping the castle.

All through the castle and Hogsmeade over their first week back, but no one but his Defense class had seen him.

Draco dropped heavily into his seat at lunch. The loud chatter around him seemed empty. He  _ missed  _ Harry, and on top of that, he was worried about him. A loud thump signaled someone dropping onto the bench next to Draco, their book bag falling to the floor.

“...How are you, mate?” Seamus asked.

“I’ve been better,” a familiar voice said. It was more gravally than normal, but still his.

“Harry!” Draco sighed in relief. “We’ve been worried about you!”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He piled food onto his plate and started eating, not offering any more information on his lack of communication with Draco, or his disappearance. And it didn’t seem like he was likely to. Everyone at the table shared worried looks over Harry’s head, but didn’t comment. Hermione mouthed to leave him alone, and the other Gryffindors nodded. They remembered Harry in fifth year, and they really didn’t want to upset him anymore than he might already be.

Students slowly rose from their seats, going to classes and study periods and wherever else they went after breakfast. Only Draco and Harry were left.

“Harry, please talk to me,” Draco said in a soft voice. He sat facing Harry now, his legs on either side of the bench. “I’m not angry, so please don’t worry about that… But I want to know why you’ve disappeared without a word, and I want to help you.”

Harry still didn’t meet his eyes, staring blankly at the golden plate in front of him. Instead of prodding, Draco just sat next to him quietly. He pulled out his textbook for Transfiguration and started reading. If Harry wanted space, then he’d get it.

The sudden scraping of the bench startled Draco. When he looked up, Harry was halfway down the Hall. Draco scrambled to grab his bag and shove his book in there, running to keep up with Harry. A loud door slam told Draco which direction he’d gone, and Draco ducked into the classroom. He didn’t remember ever being in Firenze’s classroom. But knowing his boyfriend, he could see the appeal. It looked and felt and smelled like the Forbidden Forest.

“Harry…” Draco said, dropping his bag by the door. His boyfriend sat on a log, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking with sobs. He moved to sit next to him, but was afraid to pull him closer. So Draco just calmly sat next to him, waiting for whatever it was to pass.

Time was hard to keep track of in this quasi forest, but Draco knew it was a long time by the way his body started to ache from sitting on the log. Harry’s sobs slowly eased off, and now there was just the quiet sound of his ragged breath and the eerie wind that seemed to blow through the false trees. After centuries of waiting, Harry slowly started to speak.

“Things are… starting to bleed together. It’s becoming harder and harder to remember that there isn’t a war going on still. It’s like my memories are bleeding out into my life… Running from Snatchers, waking up at dawn to keep moving... I catch myself setting up the protective spells around my room before I go to sleep.”

“Harry… Whenever you feel like this, please come talk to me. I’ll help you remember, and I’ll help ground you to what’s happening right this moment.”

“You have other things to worry about…” Harry started to say, shaking his head.

“I  _ worry about you _ . I know you’re used to doing things alone, without help from anyone. There are people who are here for you!” 

“This is my problem, Draco! Everyone else has their own shit to deal with, they don’t need my shit too.” It was obvious that Harry struggled to keep his voice under control, to keep from yelling at Draco. At this point, Draco had heard enough. He moved to sit in front of Harry, kneeling between his open legs and looking up at his tear stained face.

“Stop that right now.” The look of shock on Harry’s face was Draco’s opening, and he took it. “You may think that, but that’s not how friends and families work. You have wonderful people who give a lot of fucks about how you do in life, emotionally. By not letting anyone in, you’re making things worse. It doesn’t even have to be me that you talk to, Harry. Just share your burden. Please…”

“I don’t know  _ how _ , Draco! It’s not that easy!”

“I know it isn’t  _ easy _ . Harry, I spent the last year with Voldemort in my house.” Draco ignored the wince from Harry and barreled on. “What could I share? My family was being held hostage by a monster that could read our minds!  _ But he’s gone _ . For good. He’s never, ever coming back, and he’s not going to hurt anyone ever again.”

Harry stood suddenly, startling Draco onto his ass. The quiet pain Harry had been shouldering seemed to explode from him; he paced angrily across the length of the faux forest.

“These kids look at me like I’m some hero. Like I wasn’t the same age as them, forfeiting everything they get to enjoy,  _ just so they could enjoy it.  _ This stupid fucking war took  _ everything  _ from me Draco! What part of that don’t you understand?!”

Instead of responding, Draco just stared at Harry with a pitying look on his face and something inside Harry snapped.

“Don’t look at me like that! You don’t know how I feel! You’re just standing there and looking at me, pretending like you do understand, BUT YOU CAN’T! NO ONE CAN!”

“Well I’m sorry you feel that way, Harry.” In Harry’s anger, he didn’t hear the tears in Draco’s voice. All he saw was Draco walking to the door and grabbing his bag. He watched Draco’s back as he walked out of the classroom, shutting the door quietly. If he’d slammed the door, Harry might’ve felt better about their interaction. But listening to the latch click softly made Harry angry. Forgetting the school day, as he had for several days in a row, he stalked out onto the grounds, towards Hagrid’s hut.

When the half-giant opened the front door, Harry tersely asked if he could borrow Buckbeak for a short time.

“Yer friends have been lookin’ fer you…” Hagrid said, concern lining his face.

“I know. I’ve talked to some of them, but I need to get away for a little bit. I won’t be gone long or anything… I just want to talk to someone that isn’t me for a change.” He knew he wasn’t making a lot of sense, and he knew that Hagrid would be on the lookout for a runaway Harry, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Just bring him back, and be safe!” Hagrid called as Harry ran over to Buckbeak. They went through their ritual of bowing and petting before Harry used a giant pumpkin to get himself onto Buckbeak’s back.

“Alright… Are you ready to get out of here?” Harry leaned in and whispered. Buckbeak gave a loud squawk before racing across the grounds. His wings gave one, two, three powerful pumps before they had taken to the air were climbing towards the clouds. As Buckbeak sped through the air, Harry let out a laugh. While he loved his Firebolt, nothing could compare to the feeling of riding a creature. Buckbeak. Thestrals. Dragons. All of them were unique and couldn’t be beat by his Firebolt.

Buckbeak slowed to a glide as they broke the cloud cover and Harry leaned into him.

“How can I make Draco understand? This isn’t something where I can just cry about my feelings and be better before Easter! This is… something so much more complex! Dumbledore said that these feelings made me human and I told him that I didn’t want to be human… There is so much pain, and anger, and grief, and guilt, and  _ fear  _ all the time…”

Tears froze on his cheeks, but Harry couldn’t really feel them anyway. He hadn’t felt much of anything in a long while.

“I don’t remember what it’s like to  _ not  _ be a soldier anymore. To not always be thinking of plots to avoid death and how to get me and my friends out of messes  _ and  _ out of danger. I always look over my shoulder, thinking I see Death Eaters… Or when the fireworks went off this summer, I grabbed my wand, thinking I was back at the battle… Too many green sparks… Or that kid’s laugh is just an octave too high and it sounds  _ just like him _ .” 

Memories swallowed Harry and he hunkered over Buckbeak’s back, trying to ignore them. As if sensing his turmoil, Buckbeak sped up and attempted spirals and dips and lifts. He wanted to apologize to his boyfriend with a clear head. He’d been harsh with Draco… And they’d left things so badly. Harry knew that Draco had also suffered during the war, but he hadn’t been drafted from the age of one to be the Wizarding World’s saviour! Not even Harry’s  _ closest friends  _ understood what that meant. Because of him, they’d suffered too much… Everyone had…

As tears streamed down his face, memories flooded his mind. In an attempt to drown them out, Harry urged Buckbeak faster. The biting wind and exhilaration of flight helped sweep the feelings from his mind. He didn’t know how far they had flown, or for how long, but he finally felt a weight lift off his chest. Harry took a deep breath. It hurt to breath too deeply, like he’d been underwater for too long. After he felt more like himself, he somberly asked Buckbeak to return them home. They winged towards what Harry assumed was the castle and sure enough, in a matter of minutes, they were trotting into Hagrid’s garden.

Harry tossed Buckbeak a few ferrets in gratitude, thanked Hagrid and said he’d stop by for tea later that night. The bright sun told him it was roughly lunch time, and he hoped Draco and his friends would be in the Great Hall.

The main doors opened easily for Harry, but what stood on the other side was a little less than easy.

“Professor…” Harry said slowly. His eyes darted to the open Great Hall doors. Through them, Harry could see Draco’s silvery head among the sea of students.  _ They really needed to talk…  _ When McGonagall delicately cleared her throat in that way that demanded his attention, Harry snapped his eyes back to her stern face.

“Potter. Is there a reason you’ve been skipping classes?” McGonagall asked sternly. Her one raised eyebrow cut through Harry more than any spell or blade could.

“As it so happens, I am struggling with memories of the war and it’s been making it pretty hard to focus on much of anything really. I’ve mostly laid in my bed with the curtains drawn when no one is in the room. If there are people there, I’m hiding in Firenze’s classroom or the actual Forest. You see, I’m also avoiding human interaction so I can pretend there’s nothing wrong with because I am  _ apparently  _ a broody person.” The sarcastic answer rolled off his tongue without second thought. Inwardly, Harry was astonished, and a little terrified. This was the second time in his life that he had given serious lip to McGonagall, and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive a second attempt.

“I understand, Potter.” Her tone was understanding, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, thinking this would be the end of it. “ _ But _ you must continue going to your classes, whether you want human interaction or not. The world is unfortunately populated with people.” With her head held high, she walked into the Great Hall, leaving Harry floored.  _ She didn’t give him detention or a real lecture or... _ anything _ really _ . Shaking his head at his near miss, Harry continued inside to the Great Hall. His friends were sat all talking merrily; only Draco seemed more subdued than usual.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Harry made his way into the Hall. Some of his students waved at him, fellow Quidditch players calling out hellos. He did his best to return them, but he was soon so focused on Draco that he didn’t notice anyone else.

His friends didn’t say a word as he approached their small group. It was like they didn’t want to startle him away. Ignoring them, 

“Draco, can we talk?” Harry asked, leaning in so only Draco heard him. He didn’t respond immediately, and if it weren’t for the look on his face, Harry might have thought he didn’t hear him. But the debate was clearly written all over his face. Did he want to shove Harry off and sulk, or did he want to talk to him and help him work through his problems? Luckily for Harry, Draco’s compassion won out and he stood from his lunch. They walked out onto the grounds, heading towards a small grove of trees near the edge of the lake. They didn’t say a word as they walked, and Harry hated the gap between them.

“What is it?” Draco asked in an even voice. When he looked at Harry, something unidentifiable reflected in the gray of his eyes.

“I… I wanted to apologize. For the way I acted earlier, and the way I’ve been acting since Christmas… It’s unfair to you, and it’s really unfair for me to act like you haven’t suffered too…” As much as Harry wanted to look at Draco, his shamed refused to let him meet the understanding look he knew Draco would have.

“And I’m not looking for your forgiveness either, Draco. Don’t just say you forgive me so we can move forward. It’s not fair to either of us to pretend this didn’t happen. That I don’t struggle with how to live after the war.”

“I wasn’t really planning on forgiving you anyway,” Draco said. His voice was haughty, but fond. Harry let out a short, bitter laugh and finally looked up to meet his eyes.

“I need help, Draco… The nightmares are worse, and things keep happening during the day… It’s hard to remember where I am.” His shoulders slumped as he seemed to admit defeat. To admit weakness. Draco stepped forward and pulled his dismayed boyfriend into a tight hug.

“That’s what I was trying to say earlier, Harry, but you had to be  _ dramatic _ .”

“Me, the dramatic one?”

“Yes, you always made a quite a spectacle at school.” Harry could  _ hear  _ the smirk on Draco’s face, but the feeling of his boyfriend’s arms around him overwhelmed the need to make a sarcastic retort. They stood together on the bank of the lake for far too long, Draco holding Harry closely. When Harry moved to pull away, Draco’s arms held him tightly, just long enough to kiss the top of his head. There was only about an inch difference between the two of them, but enough of one that Draco put it to use.

“We should get to class,” Harry said into Draco’s shoulder. “I’ve missed all of them so far.”

“And you didn’t get a detention? Typical Potter.” They laughed as they separated, grabbing their bags from the nearby tree. Words didn’t fill the space between them, but they didn’t need to. 

As they started towards the school, Draco slipped his hand into Harry’s and laced their fingers together. They didn’t look at one another. Both of their faces were a deep red, as silly as it was, at the fact that they were holding hands. Kissing was one thing, mostly in private and away from most everyone. Hand holding… Well, to the rest of the school, it might as well have been a declaration of love.

“Are you ready for the fall out of holding hands with The Harry Potter, Malfoy?” Harry teased as they approached the castle doors. Draco scoffed, squeezing his hand gently. A few students had walked passed them as they came closer and closer to the school. They turned to each other, whispering furiously about Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter  _ holding hands _ , and _ you owe me five Galleons, Lucy _ .

“It won’t be easy, but I guess I’ll try.” He sounded melodramatic (and he called  _ Harry _ the dramatic one) as per usual. But there was a challenge in his voice as well, and it made Harry smile. He needed that reminder after spending a long while thinking it was him against the world again.

“Then I’ll try to make it easier for you.”

Draco threw his head back and laughed as they walked through the entrance. “As if, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i'm approaching the end of this story!!! three or four chapters at the most, i think. and it probably won't have a perfect, tied up with a bow, ending. it'll be happy, and satisfactory, but i really want to stress that this isn't some one-and-done kind of thing for harry and the others who've been in the war. (i also may write a few more shorter stories in this universe 
> 
> as always, please leave kudos if you havent already and comments always make my day!!


	12. then comes the lack of communication (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soak in the goodness of men talking about their feelings because apparently that's all i know how to write

The end of winter faded into spring, and it was welcomed by students and teachers alike. Between classes, the students could be found lounging in the sun or playing in the shallows of the lake. The eighth years were studying, holding office hours for Defense a few feet away from their friends, and taking naps during their breaks under the sun.

The students had all missed the sun, but there was an odd desperation to the eighth years’ behavior. Of course, none of the younger students would understand how much time they’d spent in the dark last year. They were either in the darkness of the castle, of dungeons, or of forests. Nevermind whatever other kinds of darkness preyed on them.

“Harry, will you hand me a fresh pot of ink? Weaselbee has stolen mine because he forgot to bring a backup,” Draco said lazily, his paper floating above his head as he checked his essay for errors.

Harry, who’d been half asleep laying on Draco, grumbled and turned onto his side. He nonverbally _Accio_ ’d the ink pot, holding it above his head with a mumbled “here,” all without opening his eyes or leaving his very comfortable pillow of Draco’s stomach.

“Lazy,” Draco mumbled affectionately, tickling Harry’s nose with a feather who absently swatted him away. He couldn’t see Draco’s small smile, but he knew it was there nonetheless.

“Gross,” Ginny said, throwing a piece of stray parchment at them. It bounced off Harry’s face. He didn’t even open his eyes to glare at her, and the paper landed in Draco’s lap.

“Ginny, we had to watch you snog at least two people from this group as well as a few other blokes around here, and we rarely gave you shit. Let them be,” Neville said with a smirk on his face. The confidence he’d gained during the war hadn’t waned now that it was over, and Harry thought it suited him.

The banter continued as the sun climbed higher and higher, and Harry dozed lightly on his boyfriend. He had apparently fallen into a deeper sleep than intended because the next thing he remembered was Draco gently running his hands through his hair and gently nudging him.

“It’s time for lunch, Harry, and then you have a class to teach.” Harry grumbled as he stood and stretched off the sleepiness. For his efforts, he received a kiss from Draco. The warm sun and damp breeze helped settle some of the pain that always seemed to dog him, and Draco’s hand in his always helped.

* * *

Neville’s class had let out early, so he’d joined Harry in teaching his class. They’d forgone drills for the day and were sitting in the classroom, the windows that had appeared that day wide open.

“What was the rebellion like at Hogwarts?” Lucy Hornswallow asked excitedly, leaning forward on her pillow. Neville hesitated and looked over at Harry. He really wasn’t used to the hero treatment, but Harry was tight-lipped about his experiences. He only told them the stories that pertained to their lessons.

“Well… it was mostly fear. We reconstituted the D.A. Because we were scared, and Harry was off trying to protect us from the bigger bad than what we were dealing with anyway. We thought we could handle a few Death Eaters. We’d done it before, at least two years in a row. And the entire Army had staged a full-scale rebellion against Umbridge fifth year.”

“Oh, we all know those stories!”

“Plus there’s that patch of swamp left by the Weasley twins!!”

“Uh, right. There were...a lot of things that happened. Most of them really bad. I have this story from our sixth year you might like--”

When a student further in the back opened his mouth to obviously ask about the war again, Neville stopped him with a look that McGonagall would be proud of.

“Anyway, there was this one time in sixth year…”

Once Neville finished his story, Harry let his students out early with reminders to practice their wand work for their final. Their chatter filled the room as they left and Harry watched with a slight bitterness. What he wouldn’t give to be like that again…

“We should get the D.A. together for a picture, like the one of the Order,” Neville said, pulling Harry from his downward spiral.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not? It’s a good way to preserve the way we are now… Maybe it’d help with the distortion of fact a little…”

“I’ll draft a letter, and we’ll take it on the anniversary, yeah?” Harry said in a quiet voice. It was the first he’d willingly thought about the anniversary. It was a little under a month away. There were preparations underway for some kind of ceremony, but Harry had explicitly asked to be left out of them.

“I think that’s a great idea, Harry. Maybe we can get a competent _Prophet_ journalist to tell the real story…”

“That’d be nice, wouldn’t it?” Harry asked. He sounded more cynical than he’d intended, but he didn’t bother to correct himself.

* * *

Foregoing general rules, Draco was lounging in the obnoxiously red and gold Gryffindor common room. Harry sat between his legs on the floor, pretending to read the open textbook across his lap, but he hadn’t turned the page in half an hour. Knowing Harry would say something if it got to be too much, Draco just stroked his hair absently and went on with his studies.

There was a loud scream and Harry moved faster than Draco had ever seen him move. One second he was on the floor spaced out, the next he was on his feet, his wand at the ready.

“Dean! Dean, love, it’s alright!” Seamus said, pulling his panicking boyfriend close. Tears streamed down Dean’s face as he clung to Seamus, his sobs now the only sound filling the room.

“Don’t make me go back…” Dean said in a broken whisper.

“Never,” Seamus said, trying to hide how upset he was as well. He looked up at everyone in a silent plea for them to return to what they were doing. Harry still stood with his wand at the ready, but a confused expression flitted across his face.

_Why am I in the common room? I’m wasting time…_

“Harry?” Draco asked softly, stepping into his field of view, his hands raised.

It was as if Harry was looking through him, dissonant pieces of the past and present flooding his mind. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and confused and it broke Draco’s heart to hear him sound like that.

“Draco?”

“It’s alright. Dean just had a nightmare is all. We’re at school studying, remember? It’s raining outside, and Hermione is sitting surrounded by books and tea cozies she’s knitting for the other House Elves.”

“But I have to find the Horcruxes…”

“They’ve already been found and destroyed, Harry. That was a year ago.” Harry closed his eyes in confusion, trying to process Draco’s words.

He remembered the forest… The final battle… Christmas at Grimmauld Place… Draco.

“Oh.”

“Are you okay?” Draco said, stepping a little closer.

Harry shook his head. His eyes were shut tightly, his entire body full of tension. Draco wanted to help, but he didn’t want to upset Harry more or make this worse. As he was debating what to do, Harry suddenly unfroze and closed the distance between them. He buried his face against Draco’s neck with his arms tight around his waist. Slowly, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him closer.

Behind them, the room as still tense. Dean had stopped crying, but Seamus was obviously shaken. Tears ran down Hermione’s face and Ginny stared into the fire with her hand locked with Hermione’s. Neville and Luna stared out the window, but both were too many shades paler than normal.

Everyone went back to their activities one at a time, and Harry settled back on the floor between Draco’s legs. The tension in the room eased back until Ginny was teasing Seamus again and Hermione was discussing her papers with Draco. Though everyone returned to their previous activities, a weight still stayed with them. They were all on edge as the anniversary of the end of the war approached, and tonight was no exception.

Luna mumbled something about sleep and walked out of the common room with Neville and Dean. Ginny and Hermione packed up their books and climbed the stairs to their shared room, leaving Draco, Harry, and Seamus in the quiet.

“I’m going to bed,” Seamus said in a low voice. “See you in the morning, Harry. Draco.”

Harry and Draco mumbled their goodnights. Once Seamus had disappeared in the stairwell, Harry stood and flopped onto the couch. Draco didn’t look up from his books until he saw a shimmery, white form standing next to him. Raising an eyebrow, Draco slowly looked up from his book.

“Did you really cast a Patronus to get my attention?” he asked dryly. Harry only responded with a lazy grin. If anyone else had been there, they might have commented on how much like his father Harry looked. But no one was there, it was just Harry and Draco. Draco stood from his chair and sat next to Harry, who laid his head in his lap. His eyes closed as Draco ran his fingers through his hair.

“How are preparations for the anniversary going?” Harry mumbled. He didn’t want to be involved in the preparations, but he knew Draco was a little (very) stressed about the actual event.

“Well, most people don’t appreciate an ex-Death Eaters’ son on the planning committee, but I’m the only one with a sense of style. And I don’t want this to be a depressing, crying event. I want everyone to celebrate the end of the war, but also the lives lost. Crying has a time and a place, sure. But there’s no need for that to be all it is.”

“I think that’s a good idea, Draco.”

“Most everyone does as well. It’s just figuring out the perfect balance between the two and how to make that into a respectable celebration that also honors those who’ve died.”

“Mmm…” Harry said, drifting off to sleep as his boyfriend’s fingers carded through his hair.

“You’re not listening, are you Harry?”

“Mmm…”

“Git…” Draco said affectionately. He closed his eyes as the warmth of the fire and Harry's body heat enveloped him.

Neville and Dean returned to Draco and Harry laid out on the couch, fast asleep. Dean snorted at the sight and whispered to Neville as they crept towards the stairs, “If you’d told me first year that I’d see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy asleep together in the Gryffindor common room, I would’ve thought you were hexed…”

“It is strange,” Neville said. “But I’m glad he’s happy. He deserves it…”

“And Malfoy isn’t half bad, once you get past the asshole exterior.”

“The same could be said for your boyfriend,” Neville said with a laugh, dodging the elbow Dean aimed at him.

* * *

Seamus was late for dinner, and the eighth years were gathered in a knot what was previously the Gryffindor table looking a little worried. Seamus hadn’t missed a meal since they’d returned to Hogwarts for fear of them being taken away without reason.

Turns out he’d overslept, but he ran all the way to the Great Hall. The doors slammed open and everyone jerked to look at Seamus. He stood in the center for a moment before running towards his friends.

“Troll! In the dungeon! Thought you ought to know…” he yelled before slumping against his boyfriend who shoved him off, laughing.

“That’s a mean trick to play on the little ones,” Hermione said as she hid her smile behind her goblet.

Across the hall, the younger students looked confused. Was there really a troll in the dungeon or was it an inside joke? When should they panic? As if sensing their confusion, McGonagall stood. Seamus only grinned in the face of her withering stare.

 _Maybe we should panic_ , they thought.

“There is no troll in the dungeon and there hasn’t been in seven years. Right, Mr. Finnegan?”

“Right, Professor!” Seamus shouted around a mouth full of rolls.

* * *

Exams were quickly approaching. Harry decided on a technical exam for his students. They’d come a long way since he’d started teaching in the old D.A. room, and he was really proud of them. He just didn’t want to grade papers while also studying for his N.E.W.T.s.

A part of Harry would miss teaching, which was weird because he remembers very clearly being against the idea. The looming very important decision of what he would do after school stressed Harry. Everyone expected him to be an Auror. Before the war, he _wanted_ to be an Auror. But now? Things felt less black-and-white and he was unsure as to where he wanted to go and what he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing.

Draco found him in the library staring intently at some pamphlets that McGonagall had handed him earlier in the week.

“What’s the problem?” Draco said, turning a chair around to sit in it. Harry glared at him briefly before laying his forehead down on the cool wood of the table.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do next year.”

“Take a gap year, like they used to do. You could start a new fad, being The Chosen One and all.”

“Thank you, Draco, but that only pushes my problem back by a year. What about after?”

“A gap year is used for that exact purpose, Potter,” Draco drawled with a fond roll of his eyes. Harry looked at Draco, his head pillowed on his arms. The cockiness of Draco still irked Harry, mostly because it turned him on.

“And what will you do?” Harry asked quietly, even though he really wanted to ask what he would do without Draco.

“I’ll begin Healer training. I’m wicked at Charms and pretty good at potions… And it just seems the right thing for me right now.” He shrugs, as if the idea of becoming a doctor is easy and _just another thing_. Actually, Draco being the way he is, it probably is just another thing.

“That’ll be interesting.”

They fell silent as Harry stared forlornly at the limp pamphlets. Draco watched Harry, afraid of losing him again to whatever plagued his head.

Outwardly, everything was fine. As hard as Harry tried to open up to Draco, he still kept locking up the bigger things. Like not saying that he was afraid of losing Draco if he left. He was afraid to go somewhere else because it might be exactly what he wants and he may never come home. He was afraid he was useless now that the war was over and he was a war hero instead of a rebel. He was afraid You-Know-Who could come back and they’d ask him to do the same things all over again…

But he kept his mouth firmly shut, and he and Draco said in easy silence until Hermione came to ask them to dinner.

* * *

Everyone had noticed Harry’s edginess lately. He was more prone to brooding than usual, he was often silent at meals and even with friends, and his lessons were subdued and short. Any attempt to ask him what was wrong was met with “It’s nothing, I promise,” which did nothing to reassure anyone who asked.

Anxiously awaiting _something_ to break, Harry’s friends never strayed far from his side. Someone was always with him. Harry, not being completely stupid, noticed this and attempted to ditch them at every given opportunity.

This wasn’t an easy task as they were all veterans, but with the map in hand, Harry easily evaded them. But one Sunday afternoon in late April, rain kept the students inside for the day. Harry stowed the map in his pocket--he'd finally reached a corridor empty of his friends--when the acrid smell of spellwork hit his nose and screams reached his ears. The light in the corridor seemed to darken, the oil lamps along the walls the only thing keeping the world from plunging into absolute darkness.

“Please! Have mercy!” a girl’s voice cried out, blue sparks punctuating her words. Several more flashes of light bounced from the walls and a few more words were shouted across the melee. Harry stopped at the corner, laying his back flat against it as he listened. His wand was held tight against his chest, his breathing shallow. There were so many unknowns around that corner, but maybe he could figure it out if he stayed here for a little...

“Come on, you can do better than that!” a deep voice called out. A sharp red light and a cackle followed it. Pain hit Harry squarely in the chest and grief consumed him briefly. _Sirius_. Harry was pulled from his grief by a high pitched laugh following a green jet of light and a boy calling out, “Take him and go! It’s him!”

Half-formed memories of his father standing up to face You-Know-Who flooded back to him. Harry rushed around the corner, _Expelliarmus_ already cast with a flick of his wrist.

Wands clattered to the floor and young voices shrieked. Owlishly, Harry blinked and looked around the corridor. Where were the Death Eaters? They couldn’t have heard him coming… He shook his head, trying to clear it. These kids needed to get to the Great Hall, they shouldn’t even _be here_. The brightness of the sun blinded Harry as he turned to look at the small group of kids. They looked up at him, not with fear, but with bewilderment.

“Quick, get to the Great Hall. McGonagall will figure out what to do with you.” Turning away, he muttered, “And where is everybody…?”

“Harry?” a familiar voice said. He spun on his heel, coming face to face with his friends. Dennis Creevey looked between the group of kids and Harry awkwardly, before turning to talk to them quietly.

Hermione stepped towards Harry slowly, the rest of his friends exchanging worried looks behind her. Harry shook his head, confused. Hermione looked different… Why?

“Harry, do you remember what day it is?” she asked gently as she came to stand a few feet away from him.

“Yeah, it’s May 1st… or 2nd… Is it after midnight yet?” As he turned again, the sunlight burned bright spots across his vision and he shook his head to clear them.

“It’s April 25th…”

“But that’s impossible, I just saw a battle right here! The Death Eaters must have fled before I got here, although I don’t know how… We have to find them.”

“Harry, that battle was just the kids playing with different hexes and charms. No one was fighting,” Dennis explained as he shooed the children away.

They’d told Dennis they’d been playing a new game they’d invented. It was basically tag with hexes and charms, but also had elements of Red Rover? Dennis didn’t fully understand it, but they’d been playing when all of the sudden Harry Potter had darted from around the corner and the next thing they knew, their wands were on the floor. There had been some confusing sentences they’d ignored, but one of Harry’s students had run to fetch Dennis. Eighth years were scary, and she really only knew Dennis. Once the story had been brokenly relayed, Dennis had rushed off to find Harry’s friends.

“I promise Harry, the war is over. It’s been almost a year now…” Neville piped up, moving away from the group. Harry’s eyes locked on him, and there was a scar on his forehead ( _hah_ ) that hadn’t been there before… He closed his eyes tightly. He couldn’t remember what was going on. Had it really been a year?

He was teaching a class… Right, he had never done that before. And Christmas at a bright sunny house with… Teddy and Malfoy?

“Draco?” he implored quietly, opening his eyes slowly. Draco stepped forward from the back of the group, quickly closing the distance between them.

“Do you remember?”

“I need to breathe…”

“Outside, then,” Draco said surely. He went to grab Harry’s hand but hesitated, unsure if he was ready for physical contact. He didn’t have to wait long for his answer. Harry’s long fingers quickly laced through his own, his grip tight. Draco started to lead Harry away when Hermione cleared her throat.

“Draco, it’s raining,” Hermione said matter of factly, pointing to the window where rain poured down the windows. Rolling his eyes in that delicate way only Malfoys had mastered, Draco looked at her.

“It might be helpful. Merlin knows it’s cold enough. He’s not going to die from a bit of cold rain.”

Draco talked about random things as he and Harry made their way outside. He hoped that mundane things like how much Charms work he had to do before the term was over would help ground Harry. He hadn’t spoken yet, but his tight grip on Draco’s hand hadn’t lessened.

In a matter of minutes, Draco was leading Harry past Hagrid’s hut and into the damp forest.

“Draco, why are we going in here?”

“You once told me it didn’t frighten you. Despite everything that had happened, you still felt at home here. Plus, it’s away from the castle, away from prying eyes.”

With a flick of his wand, Draco had created a rather large sofa from a fallen tree. Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the overt display of his talent in Charms and Transfiguration. They settled onto the “couch” nonetheless, and Draco looked at Harry with steely solemn eyes.

“Harry. You’ve been keeping things from me again.” Harry fidgeted in his seat for a moment, before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know I said I’d try… But it feels like fifth year all over again. I _know_ something is wrong, but I can’t seem to pinpoint what it is until something goes wrong. And now those kids are going to be talking about what a raving lunatic Harry Potter is. _Again_.” He groaned, throwing himself against the back of the “couch.”

“Maybe pretend you actually like your friends and boyfriend and it might make it easier."

“You aren’t going to play the sympathetic boyfriend today?” He was _whining_ , and he sounded petulant and sulky at the same time.

“I don’t think that works with you.”

“Good to know you have me all figured out,” Harry smirked, looking over at Draco out of the corner of his eye. Draco was perfectly dry surrounded by whatever charm he was using, but Harry was comfortably drenched in cold rainwater.

“You’re not that hard to figure out, Potter,” Draco said with a grin. The fact that his boyfriend thought he was some enigma was hilarious to Draco. No wonder he was awful at Legilimens; his emotions and thoughts were written all over his face constantly.

“Are you upset that I’ve not been open with you?” Joking aside, anxiety seeped into Harry’s voice. Pale gray-blue eyes stared at him for a minute, mulling over how he felt about Harry’s lack of sharing.

“No, not really. I care about you, which means I worry when you go Lone Wolf. If you’d stop doing that, we’d have more time for other activities.”

“Oh? Like what?”

A coy smirk twitched across Draco’s lips and Harry felt heat roll through him, his eyes locking onto his boyfriend’s smirk. He stood, never taking his eyes from Draco, and straddled Draco’s lap.

“Like what?” he asked again in a low voice. Draco hummed his response, unable to voice it as his breath became a little shakier. Harry leaned in slowly. One hand rested on the back of the makeshift log couch and the other cupped the back of Draco’s head. Their lips met slowly, reverently. Draco melted into Harry, groaning quietly at the slow pace his boyfriend had set. Harry smirked against him, nipping his lip.

Harry kept the pace slow and deliberate until Draco was panting underneath him. When Draco let out a whimper, Harry pulled away and grinned. It wasn’t a pure grin, it was the one he had when he was up to something a little less pure.

“Were those the other types of activities you were thinking of us having time for, Malfoy?”

“Mmm…” he responded, trying to remember what exactly they’d been talking about before they’d started this.

“You’re not listening, are you Draco?”

“Mmm…”

“Git…” Harry said, leaning back in for another kiss. Draco shivered as the cold of the rain finally started to seep in and Harry reluctantly pulled away.

“Let’s get back before we both get sick. I really don’t want to explain to Madam Pomfrey _how_ we got sick.” Harry started to pull away, drying their clothes and warming them with a quick charm. As they walked towards the edge of the forest, Draco put the Umbrella Charm up so they could avoid getting soaked on their way back to the castle.

They parted ways once they reached the castle. Draco had another few classes, and Harry had to study and come up with a final exam for his students. A few sixth years stopped in surprise to see Harry Potter kiss Draco Malfoy on the cheek before hurrying up the stairs. At the risk of being hexed into next year, they giggled at the blush creeping up Malfoy’s neck and hurried off to share the news of the show of affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have discovered that once this story is finished, i'm going to be writing a few one shots and maybe even another, shorter, fic that talks about 19 yrs later. i have officially created my own universe
> 
> anyway! leave a comment (they make my day) and a kudos if you haven't already! i appreciate any and all feedback


	13. care of magical creatures

The next morning at breakfast, Harry settled himself between Neville and Seamus. Wary looks were exchanged over his head, but he ignored them in favor of smiling at his boyfriend. He talked about Quidditch and anything else written about in the morning _Prophet_ , looking for a topic other than his break down yesterday.

Surprisingly, there was no chatter about what happened in the hallway, though the second years did eye him warily as they walked past. The tension eased from Harry’s friends and the mood seemed to return to a semi-normal. Bad jokes and puns, threats of hexing, and impersonations of least and most favourite teachers. There were pieces of food thrown with furtive glances to the Head Table, the veterans still afraid of McGonagall.

Small groups of students slowly broke off from the tables as they continued their antics, heading out for their classes today. The group split up as classes started for the day; Harry promised to grab a picnic for lunch so they could enjoy the sun. He’d canceled class, partly so he and his students weren’t cooped up on such a lovely day. Instead of class, Harry had told his students to come outside with him whenever they had time, and they could practice their possible spells for the final. Hermione chided him on his practical as they made their way to Transfiguration.

“Do they understand what they’re doing?” she asked, shoving a book in her bag and forcing the clasps closed.

“You mean theory? Well, it’s not my expertise, but I try to help them figure out the feelings behind their spellwork. As much as I hate to admit it, Bellatrix was right. To cast Cruciatus, you had to mean it… Well, after I’d figured that out, other spells became much easier when I focused on their intent,” Harry said with a slight shrug as if understanding magical theory was easy. And he’d taught it to fourth years. Like it was easy.

“Unbelievable,” Hermione said as she threw her hands up. They settled into a desk at the back of the class, _Muffliato_ cast without a second thought or an extra word.

“Think about it, Hermione. Last year, they had the Carrows. Now they have me, and despite how much I hate it, they view me as a hero. I’m teaching them how to protect themselves in the face of Dark Magic like what they faced last year.”

Hermione’s response was cut off by McGonagall calling the class to attention. The Muffliato was gone with as much notice as when it had been cast. Harry didn’t pay a second thought to his students throughout Transfiguration. This may have come easy to his dad, but Harry had to focus even more. And today they were focused on the theory behind Animagus transformations. Harry hated Transfiguration theory.

After class, Harry asked Hermione if she ever thought about becoming an Animagus.

“Not really. I never really understood the appeal, though I understand why your dad and his friends did it. Why?”

“No serious reason. I was thinking about what it’d be like instead of focusing on lecture.”

“You’re a horrible example, Harry Potter,” Hermione laughed as they made their way down to the kitchen to pick up their picnic. They were silent as they stepped through the portrait and most of the way out onto the grass. As they settled on a blanket Hermione had stored in a familiar beat up bag, Harry looked at her solemnly.

“I am thinking about it, at least a little,” he admitted. Hermione was pulling an apple from the covered basket.

“The lecture?” Her voice sounded distant as she spoke as if she wasn’t focusing on Harry.

“No, becoming an Animagus,” he said as he stared up into the leaves of the oak above him. “I dunno, the more I think about it, the more appealing it sounds…”

“I’d prefer to stay a human my whole life if possible.”

“But it’s easier to be an animal sometimes. Fewer expectations. More freedom.”

“Fleas.”

“Hermione, that’s not the point. I think I’m gonna talk to McGonagall about it.”

“Talk to McGonagall about what?” Seamus asked, plopping down unceremoniously next to Harry, pulling Dean into his lap neatly.

“Harry wants to become a dog, apparently,” Hermione said with a fond roll of her eyes. They dissolved into bickering until a student of Harry’s walked up and timidly asked for help with his counter-curses. With an easy smile, Harry stood and walked a few feet away with the student. A dummy was conjured from the Room and they set about practicing.

The rest of the afternoon passed like this. Veterans beneath the tree working on essays or grading, bickering, criticizing Harry’s form. It was normal, and they liked it that way.

* * *

The next day, Harry ran after Professor McGonagall to ask her about the Animagi transformation. She was walking between her class and the Great Hall and Harry had just happened to turn the corner right as she left her classroom. He called her name to get her attention and then ran to catch up, knowing she’d not take kindly to be shouted at.

“Professor, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Of course not, Potter.” Once Harry had caught up, McGonagall started walking again. He fell in step with her and they moved easily through the throngs of students flooding the halls for lunch.

“I was wondering about the Animagus transformation, Professor.”

“What about it precisely?” She eyed him, and he knew she was testing him.

“Well, about how to become an Animagus. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and it just seems right. I may not be certain about a lot right now, but this is one thing that feels sure.”

“You are so like your father. He would be proud of you, Harry. I hope you know that,” McGonagall said as she looked at him over the edge of her glasses. “Come by my office after dinner and I’ll get you the paperwork. You may be like your father, but you are going to do this one thing properly. Good day, Mr. Potter.”

Harry stood at the top of the stairs, emotions swirling in an odd mix. Elation that he was going to start this. Pain and sadness at the mention of his father. Confusion as to why McGonagall looked at him like that. Elation won out and he broke into a wide grin. Pulling the map from his pocket, Harry raced to find Draco and tell him the good news. According to the map, Draco was currently hanging out in one of the abandoned classrooms that the older students used as a study room.

Without ceremony, Harry burst through the door, startling Draco into shouting. Harry forgot for a moment why he’d run in while Draco’s exclamation registered.

“Did you just say Merlin’s left nipple?” Harry asked through giggles. Draco glared at him, though Harry noticed he couldn’t keep a smile off his face.

“What do you want, Potter? Banging in here like that…” he muttered, shuffling his papers like he was looking for something instead of hiding his blush.

“I’m going to become an Animagus,” Harry stated proudly. He even puffed out his chest a little.

“Merlin, why?” The disgust on Draco’s face was so comical, Harry couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Draco, your pedigree is showing.” His boyfriend sneered slightly, but there was affection behind it. Harry settled down next to him, leaning forward so their arms were touching, wrist to elbow.

“I think I know what I’m going to do next year,” Harry said softly. Draco raised a pale eyebrow, even though he already knew. Harry may have had to mull it over, Draco knew he’d made his decision the first time they’d talked about it. “I’m going to travel somewhere they don’t know my name and live for a year. Maybe pick up a few other skills along the way.”

“I’m glad you’ve figured it out. Do you know where yet?”

“America and maybe somewhere in Asia… Might just drift through there for a while.”

Draco made a sound of agreement and leaned into Harry. He went back to his work with Harry leaning against his left side. It’s hard to read the books with only one hand, but it’s a good thing he’s magic. Students walked past, watching Draco levitate books and flip the pages with a lazy flick of his wand with Harry Potter leaning into his side.

They stayed like this for hours, not speaking much. Dinner came around and Harry’s stomach growls loudly. He grinned at the loud disruption and the disgruntled look his boyfriend gave him. Draco rolled his eyes, sending the books back with another flick of his wand. They left together, Draco’s arm around Harry’s shoulder, Harry leaning into Draco’s warmth.

* * *

Harry knocked on McGonagall’s door later that night. Knots twisted in his stomach. Part of it was nerves. The other part was the fact that he’d been in McGonagall’s office only a handful of times, and most of them were because he was in trouble or had been involved in trouble of some kind.

“Ah, Potter. Come sit down.” McGonagall waved him to the large chair on the other side of her desk. As he walked towards her, she shuffled the parchments she’d been grading away, folding them neatly with a wave of her wand.

“Have a biscuit, Potter,” she said with a gleam in her eye that Harry equated to a smirk. With a small smile, he pulled off the lid and took a biscuit while McGonagall pulled out what looked like an instruction sheet.

“This process is extremely difficult, Potter. It is a miracle your father and his friends didn’t end up with half transformations or worse. But you have guidance and you don’t have to scrounge for the supplies. I know how to acquire them.”

“So what is the hard part?” Harry asked, a little more scared than he was previously.

“The timing. Because you can only keep the mandrake leaf in your mouth from full moon to full moon, and it has to be spit into a vial within range of the moon’s rays, there cannot be any clouds on the second moon. If there is, you must start the mandrake leaf over. Then, once you’ve completed the mixture to drink, you must wait for a lightning storm, which is not common here.”

“Oh, is that all?” Harry said, thinking of how many times he’d have to start this over to get it right.

“There are a few things between that, but they are less complicated. You may start tomorrow night, if you wish. It’s a full moon.”

“Sure, why not?” Harry shrugged

“Potter, are you having second thoughts about this?” McGonagall’s tone softened a little and Harry felt like a first-year again, looking up at her.

“I’m having second thoughts about a lot of things, Professor.” There was a pause where Harry picked at invisible lint from the front of his shirt. He wasn’t sure exactly how to phrase his feelings, or even why he was discussing it with Professor McGonagall of all people. “About being an Auror, about living my life like everyone expects me to… About being anything, really…”

“When have you ever done what you were told, Potter? I very distinctly remember your fifth year being composed of you doing exactly the opposite. Even in your first year, you decided the rules weren’t for you to follow. I don’t know why you’ve suddenly decided to go with people’s expectations. It certainly doesn’t run in your blood.”

Harry stared at McGonagall for a second as she raised an eyebrow, her eyes crinkling slightly. Harry unfroze, stammering out, “Are you telling me to break more rules, Professor?”

“I’m telling you that you have never done what was expected of you, so why would you start now?” Harry let out a short laugh. Never in his life had he been given permission to break rules, and expectations, and it was...kind of nice.

“Thank you, Professor,” he said while standing. “For everything.”

“It’s the least I can do, Potter. Have a good night,” she said as she waved her wand, the parchment rolls returning to their previous position on her desk.

“You too, Professor.” The door shut behind him, and he knew he should return to his dorm and get some sleep. N.E.W.T.s were right around the corner, but now he was restless. He wandered out onto the grounds, trying to clear his head. The sun had just started to set as Harry ambled towards the lake. As he walked down, a memory floated to the surface.

When he had accidentally forced back against Snape hard enough to enter his memories, the memory he’d seen of his father had stung. He never wanted to believe his father was a bully. He wanted to believe James was always like he was in everyone else’s memories… But McGonagall had always been straight with him, and she’d mentioned before how his father was. Tonight, the off-hand mention of his family, of Sirius and Remus, made his heart ache. People rarely talked about his family to him, wanting to avoid any kind of awkward missteps. Without much thought, Harry headed down to the one place someone was willing to talk about his family.

Hagrid opened the door with a bright smile on his face. He invited Harry in and quickly set tea to boiling.

“Alrigh’, Harry?” he asked, settling rock cakes down in front of Harry. Fang settled his head into Harry’s lap, and Harry’s hand started scratching his ears immediately.

“Alright, Hagrid. I’ve decided to become an Animagus, actually.”

“Really? That’s sounds amazin’! What made yeh decide?” Hagrid added the tea leaves to the giant tea kettle, busying around the small hut while Harry collected his thoughts.

“Sirius. He once told me that being an Animagus was a luxury he never would have thought of. He could wander the world and explore. He could change into a dog and think. Things were much simpler for him. And… That’s something I think is right for me too.” Harry swallowed a small piece of the rock cake quickly, letting it stop every other word from flowing out of him. Hagrid was easy to talk to. There wasn’t much judgement from him.

The conversation came to a halt, though, so Harry had to swallow quickly before it became too awkward. “I came to see you because… Well, I wanted to ask you about my mum and dad. And Sirius. And Remus!”

“What do you want to know?” Hagrid asked as he settled down with two giant mugs of tea.

“Anything, really. I know they were mischievous in school, that my mom was brilliant at Potions and Charms… But no one has ever really tells me anything else.”

“It’s hard to know where to start… I mean, yer mum was always kind. She would come see me when she had found an animal, magical or not, tha’ needed caretaking. Lily always came by to check on ‘em, and help to care for ‘em. Yeh get yer love fer the thestrals from ‘er.” Hagrid stood again, looking through the various baskets in his hut before finding a small twig that clambered onto Hagrid’s beard. “This is a Bowtruckle Lily found with damaged limbs. She helped me care for ‘er, even though she got no credit from it.”

The Bowtruckle scrambled down Hagrid’s beard and leapt across the table in a few bounds. Once she’d reached Harry, she climbed his shirt and his neck until she sat in his hair. Smiling, Harry watched her while Hagrid went on with his stories.

“Sirius liked to come down ‘ere and have tea. He always had a million questions, things ‘is parents would never ‘ave told ‘im. Always so curious…Yer more like yer godfather than yeh think,” Hagrid said with a small smile. Harry swallowed a lump that formed in his throat as he stared into the mug of tea in front of him. Very few people compared Harry and Sirius because they weren’t blood, but Harry had absorbed the best qualities of all of the Marauders. Hagrid seemed to understand that he needed that.

“Now Remus… I found ‘im after a full moon, wanderin’ across the grounds at dawn. He was only a tiny first year. If anyone else had caught ‘im, he’d woulda been in trouble. So I invited ‘im for tea and breakfast, then took ‘im back up to to McGonagall.”

Harry’s eyes widened as Hagrid talked. He’d known Remus was a werewolf? But the more Harry thought, the more it made sense for Hagrid not to care. People thought of Remus and Hagrid the same, as if they were less than.

“It’s no’ right for a kid to be wanderin’ like tha’, ‘specially not when he looks like a stiff wind’d blow ‘im over. Once yer dad and the rest’d completed the Animagus transformation, they joined our monthly breakfast and teas.”

“Speakin’ o’ yer dad… He always go’ away with more with more than he shoulda, but James did learn. Once, in his fifth or sixth year, he had ‘is first detention with me. He said some horrible things, sure. It took time. Not a lo’, considering how much time he spent in detention, but with listenin’ to me ramble, he eventually became a bi’ kinder to me. Still took ‘im awhile to become the grea’ man he became, but he wasn’ all bad.”

Once Hagrid started, he didn’t stop. There were stories that had them clutching their sides in laughter, and ones that ended in Harry’s sobs. But it was _good_ to hear how flawed and _human_ his parents were. It wasn’t until Harry looked down at his watch that he realized how long he’d been sat there. He raised his arms over his head, stretching. Fang snored loudly from his bed next to Hagrid’s, and the Bowtruckle had long since fallen asleep in Harry’s hair.

“Thank you, Hagrid. This means a lot to me,” Harry said as he stood slowly, so as not to disturb to sleeping twig.

“Yeh can keep ‘er,” Hagrid said as he watched Harry raise his hands to lift the small creature from his head. “She’d like bein’ out an’ about again.”

It wasn’t until Harry was almost out the door that Hagrid said, “Stop by anytime, Harry. Even after yeh leave Hogwarts. I’m always willin’ to share stories.”

Harry thanked him again and wandered his way back up to Hogwarts. He crawled into his bed that night and he smiled as he drifted off to sleep. For the first time in his life, he felt like he knew his family. Not just as the legends everyone thinks they are, but as the people they were.

The last thing Harry remembered as he fell asleep was watching his mother’s Bowtruckle, fast asleep in a small box of leaves and twigs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think one or two more chapters before this fic is done!!! obvs this isn't the end of the series, i plan to continue more in a few one shot or short chapter fics!!!! i can't believe this is the first multi chapter fic i will have finished!


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